If I Believe in Anything
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: A year after the death of their daughter, can Trip and T'Pol let go of the past in order to face a future that neither one of them expected?
1. The Shape of You

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: It's funny how you can come back to characters and worlds that you didn't think you'd ever visit again. But I am a Star Trek fangirl and Trip and T'Pol will always be my favorite ST pairing (maybe it's the native Floridian in me...I have a special place in my heart for our favorite engineer, especially considering that my hometown would have destroyed by the Xindi, too.) I had to abandon the only other story I wrote for them due to canon issues, but now I don't have to worry about that.

I have three chapters written and a clear ending in sight. Not sure if there are still TnT fans out there, but if you're reading this, thank you so much for keeping the love alive;)

As a side note, I've spoken every word I've written for Trip out loud, testing them in my own southern accent. Is that weird?

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_There's a hole in my heart and I carry it wherever I go_

_Like a treasure that travels with me down every road_

_There's this longing, lonesome ending_

_Kind of bitter, kind of sweet_

_There's a hole in my heart in the shape of you_

_- Jewel, "The Shape of You"_

* * *

Coming out of the breakfast line, Hoshi scanned the crowded mess until she spotted Malcolm and Travis in the far corner near the windows that looked out into the black expanse of space. Travis gestured to her and after weaving her way through the tables, she set her tray down at theirs.

"Good morning," she greeted them with a smile. "Everyone sleep well?"

"She's loud. And chipper," Malcolm complained to Travis. "Why did you ask her over when you know she's loud and chipper?"

Hoshi blinked. "Um...I'm sorry?"

Travis shook his head in apology. "It's not you. He had a rough night." Lowering his voice, he added, "Sarah." Because the man in question was staring into his mug of tea, Travis drew a line across his throat, indicating that the two month-old relationship between Malcolm and the science ensign had officially ended...and it hadn't been Malcolm's idea.

"Oh, Malcolm." Hoshi reached across their trays to put her hand on his arm. "It's her loss, you know."

He raised his tea to his lips, but didn't drink. "Sure. Fine. Her loss." Sarcasm oozed from every word. "That makes it all better."

"We're giving you a free pass on your usual British manners for now," Hoshi informed him. "But it's not an unlimited pass."

To his credit, there was genuine remorse in the man's eyes as he muttered, "My apologies."

"Besides," Travis declared. "There are plenty of other fish in the sea."

Hoshi arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so we're fish now?"

Travis placated her with a winning smile. "Exotic and sought-after fish?"

Shaking her head, Hoshi cut into her pancakes and let the comment slide. For the moment.

"What about Amber Lynsky in Engineering?" Travis asked Malcolm. "She's not dating anyone that I know of."

For the first time since she'd sat down at the table, Malcolm looked up with a fair amount of interest. "That is true." Some of his enthusiasm faded a second later. "But she's one of Trip's proteges and you know how protective he can be of his team."

"Speaking of, where is Trip?" Hoshi glanced around the room. "Come and gone already? I'm surprised there were any grits left."

"I don't expect we'll see him at all today." What was left of Malcolm's self-pity had been replaced by a sudden solemnity. "Or T'Pol, I'd imagine."

"Why?" As soon as she asked the question, Hoshi realized the answer. She lowered her fork; her throat constricted. "Wow." A second passed. "Has it really only been a year?"

Travis inclined his chin. "Yeah. Seems like a lot longer, doesn't it?"

"Actually," Malcolm said, draining his tea, "I was going to say the opposite."

Hoshi kept trying to swallow, but the lump in her throat was stuck there. "Is there going to be a memorial service or something?"

"I can't see T'Pol agreeing to that."

Travis echoed Malcolm's observation with a nod. "And Trip won't go against her. At least not about this."

"Still, she shouldn't just be forgotten. She was an innocent little..." Hoshi stopped and looked off to the side, sniffing softly.

"And if this is how we feel about her..." His appetite gone, Travis pushed his half-empty plate away. "Just think what they must be going through today..."

* * *

On the morning of the anniversary of their daughter's death, T'Pol was roused from a restless sleep by the feeling she was being watched. She opened her eyes only to see Trip looking back at her. But rather than being alarmed by the fact that she wasn't alone in her bunk, she felt wholly safe in his presence.

After all, she was the one who had invited him there.

"Mornin'."

T'Pol turned onto her side to see him better. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." Trip was quiet for a few seconds; his gaze turned up towards the low ceiling. "I was dreamin'. 'Bout Elizabeth." T'Pol said nothing, but something in her silence told him to continue. "She was bigger. Three. Maybe four. And I was..." His voice cracked. "She was on my shoulders. Laughin'. Tellin' me to go faster. 'Go faster, Daddy'..." Unable to continue, he closed his eyes.

T'Pol touched the glistening tear track that ran down his temple to his rounded earlobe. "She was in my dreams, as well."

"Tell me 'bout 'em?"

"I can't," she said a second later.

Trip sniffed. Sighed. "That's okay, darlin'." He turned his head against the pillow to look at her again. "Thank you. For lettin' me stay here last night. I really didn't wanna wake up alone this mornin'."

T'Pol surprised him, not to mention herself, when she shifted just enough to close the sliver of space she had carefully left between them during the night. To accomodate her, Trip lifted his arm, allowing her to place her cheek on his bare chest. Her eyes closed as his heart beat fast beneath her sensitive Vulcan ear. He hesitantly brought his other arm up to circle her shoulders, inadvertantly drawing her even closer to his body.

There were so many unspoken rules between them; she didn't blame him for worrying that he might break one of them. But on that particular morning, the rules just didn't seem to matter.

In fact, she was having a hard time remembering why she'd established them at all.

As she lay there in the safety of his embrace, rediscovering the feeling of his skin against hers, she thought about sharing her dream with him, but ultimately chose to keep the image of him rocking Elizabeth to sleep in his arms to herself.

"Feels like yesterday, doesn't it?"

It took T'Pol a minute to reply. "It has been 365 Earth days, not including the 24 hours we all repeated, courtesy of the Barlatian incident," she clarified.

Undaunted by her logic, Trip went on, "I keep thinkin' I'll stop missin' her eventually. I mean, it's not like we had all that long with her."

"It was long enough." With that, T'Pol pushed herself up, twisting away from him. She would have gotten out of the bed entirely if Trip hadn't gently grasped her wrist, holding her in place.

"I didn't mean that like how it came out." He sat up behind her, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck. "Guess I'm just tired of missin' things...missin' people. My home, my sister, our baby girl..." Trip let his hand slide up her arm to her elbow. "You."

T'Pol forced herself to remain absolutely still, although the gentle brush of his fingers against her skin felt far better than she wanted to admit. "You see me every day," she reminded him.

"Yeah. I do." His hand dropped back to his side. "I should get goin'. Shift starts in an hour." But instead of getting up, Trip hesitated, daring to ask, "Are you gonna be okay today?"

"There is little logic in dwelling on what cannot be changed," T'Pol eventually said. Still, there was a strain in her voice that belied her Vulcan resolution. "Today will be no more or less difficult than yesterday was or tomorrow will be."

Trip opened his mouth to argue, but had no energy to follow through. As much as he loved to fight with T'Pol, he just couldn't anymore. "All right." After giving her another second to change her mind, he pushed off the covers and set his feet down onto the cold floor.

T'Pol watched him yank his shirt on over his head, bothered by just how much she had enjoyed the sight, not to mention the feel, of his bare arms and torso. Being that she was no longer under the influence of Trellium-D and her Pa'nar Syndrome had been wiped away, why couldn't she shake her completely illogical physical attraction to this particular Human?

Redressed and ready for what might be interpreted as a walk of shame if anyone happened to see him leaving T'Pol's quarters before breakfast, Trip paused at the door. "You know where to find me. You know...if you wanna talk. Or not talk." He pressed a button on the panel and the door slid open. "I'm up for anything."

There was no innuendo in his suggestion, just an honest desire to help her out in any way that he could. He was, as always, the perfect gentleman. T'Pol spent the rest of the morning trying to convince herself that she wouldn't have wanted such an blatant invitation to renew their sexual relationship, anyway.

She wasn't entirely sure she would have been able to turn him down.

* * *

If there was anywhere on the _Enterprise_ where a man could go for hours without having to think about anything non-mechanical, it was Engineering. Trip gratefully spent the first half of his day repairing a plasma coil, a job that required his entire focus, leaving no room for errant thoughts or emotions.

Unfortunately, it wasn't an extremely time-consuming task. Eventually, he had to crawl out from underneath his beloved machinery if for no other reason than to stop the rumbling in his stomach. He had skipped breakfast in favor of a very cold shower.

Did all Vulcans sleep in skimpy silk pajamas or was it just T'Pol?

In the mess hall, he forced himself to smile at the very sympathetic ensign who served him three pieces of fried catfish, a huge scoop of hush puppies and what seemed like a full quarter of a pecan pie. He refused to believe the menu was a coincidence; clearly Chef was aware of the significance of the day and had decided that Trip's favorite foods might cheer him up.

Knowing Chef, he probably had a pot of plomeek broth and a platter of pok tar ready to go for whenever T'Pol came in.

Rather than face the rest of the crew and the possibility of being confronted with any of their well-meaning condolences, Trip carried his tray to the Captain's dining room.

Jonathan Archer was seated at the head of the table. When Trip entered, he looked up from the book that lay open in front of him.

"Am I interruptin'?" Trip asked his old friend.

"Not at all." Archer indicated the empty chairs. "Have a seat." The captain waited until his Chief Engineer had settled in before he asked, "How are you, Trip?"

Trip gulped down some lemonade. "Honestly? I feel like hell." His lips turned up in a wry smile. "But thanks for askin'."

Archer closed up his book and leaned forward. Trip took a big bite of catfish, giving himself plenty of time to prepare an answer for whatever question he was about to be asked. "Have you talked to T'Pol today?"

A full minute later, after he'd chewed his food more times than even his grandma had recommended, Trip inclined his chin. "Wasn't much talking involved, but, yeah, I saw her earlier."

"I tried to get her to take the day off," Archer said. "You can imagine how well that went over."

"Like a fart in church?" Trip guessed. The captain coughed to cover up a snort of laughter. "I'm sure she appreciated the gesture. In her own way, of course." He lifted his shoulder as he stabbed his fork through a hush puppy. "She probably just needs to work." Stuffing the ball of fried cornbread into his mouth, he added, "Know I do."

"Are you and she..." Archer stopped, changed his mind and shook his head. "Sorry. That's none of my business."

Trip swallowed with the help of another swig of lemonade. "It's more your business than anyone else on board." He set down his glass. "I think that ship has sailed for good. Anythin' we had...it died a year ago. What's left is just...I dunno...shared grief, I guess."

"I didn't realize T'Pol was still grieving."

"'Course she is." Trip stared at Archer, like he hadn't really seen him in a long time. "Just 'cause you don't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

Although it looked like he wanted to follow up that thought with one of his own, Trip was more than a little grateful when the captain changed the conversation to some ideas he had for minor adjustments to the warp generator.

* * *

As the senior officer on the bridge, T'Pol should have been entirely focused on the day-to-day operations of the _Enterprise_, especially considering that one never knew when there might be an unexpected problem that would require her attention.

But for reasons that were less baffling than they were irritating, T'Pol found her usually unflappable focus slipping every few minutes, drawing her back to earlier that morning, when she was curled up alongside Trip.

She ought to have turned him away when he showed up at her door, requesting a neuropressure session in order to get some sleep. There was no logical argument that could be made to explain why she had not only let him inside, but had presented him with the option of spending the night in her quarters.

Unless it was argued that the logical path towards fulfilling one's desires was to simply ask for what one wanted. In that case, inviting Trip into her bed had been entirely logical because, while she didn't care to give in to every whim of her subconscious, there was no time that she felt closer to Elizabeth than when she was with him.

"Commander?"

Blinking out of her thoughts, T'Pol turned her head towards Malcolm as he continued, "Our long-range sensors are picking up a vessel a hundred thousand kilometers out." He looked up at her with obvious apprehension. "It appears to be heading straight for us."

"Do we have visual capability?"

He shook his head. "Negative, but it shouldn't be long. They're on an intercept course...and there's no telling how soon they'll be in weapons range."

"Tactical alert, Lieutenant Reed." T'Pol pressed a button on the arm of the captain's chair, activating intership communications. "This is Commander T'Pol. All crew to their stations. All senior officers to the bridge."

As soon as she issued the last order, she wanted to retract it. What was the reasoning behind calling the Chief Engineer to the bridge simply for an approaching alien vessel that might not even wind up being a threat?

Nothing. And she hoped that if anyone else came to the same conclusion, they would take no note of it.

In the few minutes it took for Archer and Trip to make it to the bridge, the unknown ship covered fifty thousand kilometers, putting it just in the range for their sensors to begin to identify significant features.

"Do we know who they are?" was Archer's first question after T'Pol had explained the situation.

"Running the sensor scans through the database now, sir," Malcolm said.

Having given up the captain's chair, T'Pol started for the science station, but quickly encountered an obstacle in her path. Trip.

Her gaze settled on the magenta stripes that decorated the shoulders of his uniform. "Excuse me, Commander."

It was only when she finally lifted her eyes to meet his that Trip stepped aside to allow her by. She thought she saw him shake his head, but when she slid into her seat behind the science console, he had his back to her and she was unable to see what expression was on his face.

At one time, she might have been able to search his mind and find out what he was feeling, but a bond neglected was as good as broken.

"It's a small ship, sir. Approximately one-tenth our size." Malcolm frowned at his screen. "I remember this design..." With raised eyebrows, he looked to Trip. "I believe it's the Xyrillians."

* * *

To Be Continued


	2. Blind

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I just want to thank you for reading and/or reviewing the last chapter. I wasn't expecting as much of a response as I got, and it's definitely prompting me to write even faster;) Hope you enjoy this second part!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_After all this time_

_I never thought we'd be here, never thought we'd be here_

_When my love for you is blind_

_But I couldn't make you see it, couldn't make you see it_

_That I loved you more than you'd ever know_

_- Lifehouse, "Blind"_

* * *

"Holy crap."

Trip's exclamation echoed around the bridge, loud enough to draw the attention of anyone who wasn't already staring at him. But it would have been damn near impossible not to react like he had because if Malcolm was right and the ship heading for them was, in fact, Xyrillian, the last time their two species had encountered each other, Trip had found himself pregnant with one of their offspring.

Could anyone really blame him for being caught off guard by their reappearance five years later?

"Malcolm, are you sure?" Archer asked.

Hoshi, who had been quietly taking everything in from her position at the communications console, answered for him. "We're being hailed, sir." She shot Trip a sympathetic look. "It's definitely them. The translator identified their language right away."

Trip could actually feel T'Pol's stare boring into the back of his head, but he refused to turn around and face her. Although the subject hadn't been broached during their brief relationship, he was almost certain she had never believed that nothing sexual had happened between him and Ah'len and that his pregnancy had been entirely innocent and accidental.

"On screen," the captain ordered. "And I think we can drop the tactical alert."

Five years wasn't a lot of time, so Trip wasn't sure why he was so surprised that when Ah'len appeared on the screen, she looked exactly the same. Perhaps it was because so much had happened to him in those few years; he had the sneaking suspicion that all those experiences, good, bad and devastating, were written on his face in lines and grey hairs that hadn't existed the last time they'd met.

"Captain Archer," Ah'len greeted them. A second later, she added a much more personal, "Commander Tucker. It it most agreeble to see you and your ship again."

"It's a surprise for us, but a very welcome one." Archer smiled at the alien woman. "Where is your captain?"

Ah'len lowered her chin. "Trena'L passed into the Unknown two years ago. I was chosen as his successor."

"We're sorry for your loss. He was a great representative of your people and will be remembered as such amongst ours."

"Thank you, Captain." When Ah'len looked back up, she immediately focused on Trip. "Time has been kind to you, I hope."

Archer glanced at Trip. "It's fair to say that we've learned a lot since our last encounter," the captain answered for him. "Making first contact with you, however, stands as one of the highlights of our mission so far."

"Unforgettable," Trip added with a grin. "Least for me, it was."

"I have often wished that we might meet again, Commander, so that I might better apologize for what I put you through," Ah'len confessed.

Trip shrugged, like he got pregnant every day. "Hey, I made it into the history books. What more can a guy ask for?"

"Perhaps..." The alien woman hesitated. "A chance to meet the child you carried?"

Trip's smile dropped and he was vaguely aware of T'Pol's quick intake of breath. He very nearly looked back at her, but before he could even gather his thoughts, Ah'len had stepped aside to make room for the appearance of her daughter.

Much later, when Dr. Phlox studied the recording in order to expand the Starfleet database entry on the Xyrillians, he would note that the species aged relatively the same as humans. The child that had once been implanted in Trip closely resembled a Human at around age five or six. She was a miniature copy of her mother, down to the pattern of scales on her dermal plating.

Blinking her yellow-green eyes, the little girl stared at the Humans, much like a child of Earth would have certainly stared at her. Ah'len leaned closer to her daughter and murmured something into her ear. With her mother's encouragement, the girl smiled shyly at Trip.

"Hello, Father. I am Tu'len. Thank you for giving me life."

* * *

There was an inexplicable pressure building up in the center of T'Pol's chest. It had started from the moment Malcolm had tentatively identified the alien ship, growing stronger when Ah'len appeared on the screen, but not threatening her ability to breathe until Tu'len began speaking to Trip.

She didn't need to see his face to know that he was smiling when he told the child, "You are very, very welcome, sweetie." She could just feel it.

Hoshi, who had become quite sensitive to T'Pol's body language ever since their mind meld, removed her ear piece and leaned closer towards her, as not to be overheard by the others.

"Are you all right, Commander?"

T'Pol's back was so straight that it ached. "She called him 'father'."

"Well...maybe." T'Pol looked at Hoshi as she added, "I think that's just the only word the translator could come up with for whatever she said. It might not actually mean 'father' like we think of it. Maybe more like host. Or vessel?"

But despite the younger woman's well-intended attempt at logic, a wave of nausea hit T'Pol when Ah'len suggested that Trip might like to board their ship in order to meet Tu'len in person.

"I think I could handle that," Trip accepted the invitation with a grin. "I've kinda missed that grass y'all have growin' over there. Never have tasted anything quite like it since."

"We'll start making preparations for your decompression right away," Ah'len said. Just before the view screen went blank, Tu'len waved goodbye.

"Wow." Once again, Trip vocalized what everyone else, with the exception of T'Pol, was thinking. "Guess I better go get ready, Captain."

Archer stood and approached his friend. "Are you sure you want to do this, Trip?" He paused, his eyes darting to T'Pol. "Today?"

"Hey...life goes on." Studiously avoiding making any eye contact of his own with T'Pol, Trip clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Right?" With that, he left the bridge.

No one was surprised when only a minute later, T'Pol followed after him.

* * *

Trip knew he was being pursued, but he didn't slow down until he reached his quarters; in fact, he tripled his speed in order to get there with time to spare. When T'Pol came around the corner, she found him leaning against his door, arms crossed, waiting for her.

"Somethin' on your mind, Commander?" he drawled.

T'Pol folded her hands behind her back. "Given your history of accidental exposure to unknown pathogens on board alien ships, it would be wise to limit your contact with the Xyrillians to visual exchanges."

"Unknown pathogens?" Trip stared at her. "You are unbelievable sometimes, you know that?"

"Perhaps my choice of words was..."

He cut her off. "Look, I realize that the timin' here is bad, but unless you can come up with a real good reason why I shouldn't, I'm goin' over there, T'Pol." Trip pushed off the door, stepping closer to her. "But...if you want me to stay...all you gotta do is ask."

T'Pol lifted her chin several notches higher. "I have expressed my concerns, Commander. Whether or not you choose to take my advice is entirely up to you."

"Yeah. It sure as hell is." With a shake of his head, Trip punched the panel on the side of his door; it slid open and he stepped back to enter the room.

Before the door closed, T'Pol took a deep breath and slipped inside after him.

"Trip." Her soft tone and the use of his name, rather than his title, stopped him from immediately ordering her out. He turned around in time to see her lower her arms to her sides, a gesture of apology that only someone who knew her intimately could have recognized. "I don't..."

"Come with me," he blurted out. T'Pol blinked. "I wanna share this with you." Trip's smile was touched with sadness. "There's a lot I wanna share with you."

His confession hung in the air between them until he finally threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. Just forget I even..."

This time, she cut him off. "It's not possible for me to go with you." He snorted in disbelief, prompting her to add, "Their atmosphere is difficult for a Human to endure; for a Vulcan, it might very well be lethal."

Trip blew out a sigh. "Didn't think of that," he admitted. "I just thought..."

"What?" Only the slightest narrowing of her eyes gave away any hint of emotion on her perfectly composed face. "That I might be hesitant to board the Xyrillian ship because I am jealous of the fact that you have a child with an alien woman?"

"I've only ever had one child with an alien woman." Trip glanced at the framed photograph of Elizabeth that sat next to the picture of her namesake. "A beautiful little girl." He looked back at T'Pol. "But she's gone. And no one could ever replace her."

The pressure in her chest was becoming unbearable, but she forced herself to tell him, "Someday, when you marry and have other children, you will..."

"Is that really what you want?" T'Pol averted her eyes, to avoid seeing his mounting anger. "You want me to get married to someone else, have kids with someone else?" He took another step towards her. "What about what I want?"

"Everything I know about you tells me that you desire a family of your own." T'Pol's tone was cool, but the idea of Trip with another woman brought back the wave of nausea she'd experienced on the bridge. With one hand on her flat stomach, she managed to ask, "Am I wrong?"

"Not completely," Trip allowed. Was he aware of how much longing was etched on his face? "I do want a family."

"It would go against your Humanoid nature not to procreate." The nausea was fading, but not fast enough. "Perpetuating one's own species is a biological imperative."

Too late, T'Pol realized how much emphasis she had put on the term "one's own." If she could have taken it back, she would have, but the damage had already been inflicted. For a long minute, Trip just stared at her.

"You know, I've always thought you were pretty observant, darlin'." He chuckled bitterly. "But when it comes to the two of us, you are as blind as a damn bat!" Stalking past her, he slammed his fist against the control panel and the door slid open automatically. "If you don't mind, Commander?"

When she was gone, Trip kicked the wall hard enough to break one of his toes.

* * *

To Be Continued


	3. Do What You Have to Do

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and especially to everyone who's reviewed. I really appreciate it and I hope you keep enjoying the story!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_I'm ever swiftly moving_

_Trying to escape this desire_

_The yearning to be near you_

_I do what I have to do_

_But I have the sense to recognize_

_That I don't know how to let you go_

_- Sarah McLachlan, "Do What You Have to Do"_

* * *

After three hours in the Xyrillian decompression chamber with a throbbing toe and a splitting headache that had T'Pol's name written all over it, Trip stepped into the colorful, organic ship he remembered with fondness.

"Welcome back, Commander," Ah'len greeted him. "Do you require rest or sustenance?"

"I'm fine," Trip assured her. "I'm an old pro at this." He looked around at the various work stations and quickly came to the conclusion that every Xyrillian on board had gathered to get a look at him.

"We have many new members of our crew," Ah'len explained. "They have never seen a Human before."

Trip nodded and waved at the aliens. "Hope I don't disappoint."

"They also are all aware of the part you played in giving my daughter life." Ah'len started walking, gesturing for him to follow her. "You're something of a celebrity here."

Limping behind her, Trip never got a chance to reply. Seemingly out of nowhere, Tu'len appeared; the little girl crashed into her mother's side and wrapped her arms around her slender waist, burying her face in the fabric of Ah'len's metallic bodysuit.

"Tu'len enjoys acting as though she is shy, but in truth she's quite the opposite." Peeling her daughter away from her body, Ah'len knelt down to her level. "Tu'len, this is Commander Tucker."

The child looked up at Trip. "What's that on your head?"

Trip reached up, feeling for anything out of the ordinary, but all he found was his hair. "This?" Tu'len nodded. "It's my hair."

"What does it do?"

He chuckled. "Well, nothin', I guess. It's just kinda there."

"Does it protect your brain?" Tu'len asked.

"Not as much as I'd like."

Just like a Human child, once her question had been answered, Tu'len had another one ready to go. "How old are you?"

Playing along, Trip replied, "Thirty-five."

"Where were you created?"

"Ah, Earth," he said, once he realized what she was asking. "Place called Florida."

"What's your favorite food?"

"Pecan pie."

Tu'len frowned. "What's a pecan pie?"

"All right, I think that's enough questions." Ah'len stood up and urged her daughter back in the direction from which she had appeared. "Go to the nursery and bring back Nalahlan. I'm sure the Commander would like to meet him."

As quickly as she had come, the little girl was gone, having scampered off to do her mother's bidding.

"Who am I meetin'?"

"Her newest pet. Tu'len has an affinity for all creatures; our quarters resemble a zoo."

Hands on his hips, Trip couldn't help but shake his head in amusement. "She's a darlin'. I bet you're real proud of her."

"I am. I often think that, like her name, part of Tu'len's insatiable curiosity must come from you."

"Really?" His arms lowered. "Is that even possible?"

"It's not unheard of for a child to take on certain attributes of their male host." Ah'len studied his face as he processed this. "Does that upset you?"

"No. No, not at all. I was just thinkin'..." Trip stared, unblinking, at a point just over the alien woman's shoulder. "Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations."

Ah'len tilted her head to the side. "What does that mean?"

"It's something I learned from...a friend of mine." Snapping out of his reverie, Trip forced a smile. "It means that anything can happen. Anything at all."

"Forgive me, Commander..."

"Trip," he corrected her.

"You've changed, Trip, since we last met. There's less light in your eyes." Ah'len reached out and touched his cheek, but there was no cool blue spark of energy between them when their skin touched. "All I feel is sadness." Ah'len frowned. "And loss."

Trip shrugged off her concern. "Past few years...they haven't been easy, but I'm still hangin' on."

"Without you, I would not have Tu'len." Shaking her head, Ah'len told him, "If only there was something I could do for you. Nothing could ever compare to the great gift you gave me, of course, but if there is anything you ever need, you only have to ask."

"Thanks." Trip's smile was rueful. "But I didn't do much more than put my hands in some pebbles. 'sides...I'm afraid that everythin' I want is way outta my reach."

Just then, Tu'len reappeared with a furry, blue eel wrapped around her neck like a scarf. Ignoring the pain in his toe and the ache in his heart, Trip tried not to cringe when the little girl held out her apparently-beloved pet towards him, urging him to stroke the creature's slick fur.

It felt even weirder than it looked.

"Nalahlan likes you," Tu'len decided. Trip wasn't so sure. In fact, he was pretty certain the eel wasn't too thrilled with the whole situation.

"When he was little, he used to curl around my fingers. Mother says he's getting too big for me to wear anymore," the little girl told him as she rewrapped Nalahlan around her neck. "Do you have a pet, Father?"

Trip wasn't exactly sure when he started feeling light-headed; dizziness enveloped him out of nowhere, making everything spin in front of him. He suddenly lost his balance and would have fallen if not for Ah'len catching him.

"Rest," he heard her say just before he passed out. "We'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

The flicker of candle flames danced across T'Pol's face; the only other light came from the stars themselves, visible through the window in her quarters. Her eyes were closed, her body perfectly still. Any observer would have concluded that she was in a state of deep meditation.

But appearances could be deceiving. Inside, T'Pol was a mess.

Every time she thought she'd reached a point where she could wipe all thoughts away, Trip's face would appear and the last angry words he'd spoken to her would replay in her mind like a recording set to repeat.

Blind as a bat. Was he right or was he merely being overly emotional? She wasn't sure and that doubt was driving her to distraction. Her decision to end their relationship after Elizabeth's death had been practical. Logical. Crucial, whether he ever realized it or not.

So why was she doubting her choices now?

The sound of the door chime seemed as loud as a gunshot. T'Pol visibly flinched, but her eyes opened. "Come in."

It wasn't surprising that her visitor was Hoshi. The communications officer entered tentatively, asking, "Is this a bad time?"

"No." Rising to her surprisingly unsteady feet, T'Pol extinguished the candles and brought up the overhead lights. "Do you require my assistance?"

Hoshi's silky ponytail swung back and forth. "I was just passing by and thought you might want some company. You know, since Trip is sort of...away." She moved around the edge of the room towards T'Pol's desk. "We could talk. If you want."

"That's not necessary. I'm fine. If you'll excuse me, Ensign..."

"We've been in each other's minds. I know when you're lying."

Hoshi's words were startling, not only in their directness, but in the fact that she spoke them in flawless Vulcan.

T'Pol met her unblinking stare with cool eyes. "If you already know what's on my mind," she replied back in her native tongue, "then why are you here?"

"Because I think you need a friend," Hoshi said, returning to English.

"And is that what we are?" T'Pol had yet to blink, although to her credit, neither had Hoshi. "Friends?"

"After all these years, do you even have to ask?"

A moment later, T'Pol looked away. "I..." Her throat stuck. "I appreciate that."

The corners of Hoshi's lips turned up. "Look, I'm not asking to braid your hair and talk about boys." She reconsidered, "Well, maybe one boy. If you can call Commander Tucker a boy."

T'Pol's straight eyebow lifted. "When confronted with a new warp component, he can certainly resemble one."

Hoshi laughed and for some reason her reaction flooded T'Pol with inexplicable warmth. Usually, when she was the cause of Human laughter, it was at her expense. This felt much different and far better.

Still smiling, Hoshi lowered herself onto T'Pol's chair. "You love him. I didn't realize that until I started having those dreams. You missed him when he was on the _Columbia_."

T'Pol sat down on the edge of her bunk, where Trip had slept only hours earlier. "I was not the only one who felt his loss."

"But it was different for you." Hoshi leaned forward. "I realize I'm not an expert in anything Vulcan...well, except your language...but I understand enough to know that you do have emotions. Big emotions." She shook her head. "Is it really logical to deny they exist?"

"I have given in to my emotions before." Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, T'Pol rose to her feet. "It is not a path I wish to take again."

"Not even for him?"

T'Pol's chest rose and fell as she drew in and exhaled several calming breaths. "My relationship with Commander Tucker...with Trip...it is complicated. To say the least." She closed her eyes. The nausea, which she thought she'd dampened by meditating, had returned. "But as you said, you have been in my mind, as well."

"I have," Hoshi murmured.

T'Pol's eyes opened slowly. "It is not necessary for you to ask questions to which you already know the answers."

Several seconds passed in silence. "I'm sorry," Hoshi finally said. "I just wanted to help."

Composed again, despite her rolling stomach, T'Pol folded her hands behind her back. "And I am grateful for that, but in the interest of friendship, could we please change the subject?"

"Sure. Of course." Hoshi glanced around the room, searching for something to say. Just when T'Pol was about to suggest that they end their conversation entirely, Hoshi found a new topic.

"So...I was reading up on our last encounter with the Xyrillians a little while ago. I'd forgotten a lot about them in the past five years."

T'Pol only lowered her chin enough to nod in agreement, but her head suddenly throbbed, as if she'd slammed it against something hard.

"Commander Tucker's official log is the best source, obviously. The way he describes their holograph program..." Hoshi shook her head in amazement. "I would love to see how that works. Being able to visit anywhere in the universe without ever leaving one room? Can you imagine?"

"It is...extrordinary technology." Each word T'Pol spoke had to be forced out. She was losing focus...getting dizzy...

"Where would you go? If we had a room like that?" Hoshi didn't wait for an answer. "I think I'd like to go to Cuba again. I went once, when I was learning Caribbean Spanish; it was beautiful, the beaches and the crumbling missions. Of course, a good chunk of it is gone now, but..."

Without warning, T'Pol's knees gave out from underneath her. She collapsed to the floor, lost to the dark of unconsciousness, unable to hear Hoshi yelling her name.

* * *

To Be Continued


	4. Dreams

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I continue to be so grateful to everyone who's reading this story and dropping a line to tell me what they think, both positive and constructive. I'm having all kinds of fun telling it, so it's good to hear you're enjoying it;)

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

And now, in my dreams

I can feel the way, I can just come clean

I keep it to myself, I know what it means

I can't have you

But I have dreams

- Brandi Carlile, "Dreams"

* * *

_"Faster, Daddy!" From her perch on his shoulders, Elizabeth dug her little fingers into his hair, like an experienced rider manning her steed. "Go faster!"_

_With one hand around each of his daughter's tiny ankles to hold her steady, Trip increased his speed as he turned circles in the surf. Elizabeth's delighted laughter was loud enough to drown out the sound of the ocean. _

_"You want faster, baby girl?" Still turning round and round, Trip moved up the beach into drier sand, stopping in front of a carpet of towels. Swinging his giggling child off his shoulders, he deposited her directly onto her mother's lap. "I deliver." _

_Raising her sunglasses, T'Pol examined Elizabeth's exposed skin with a maternal eye. "I believe you require more sunblock," she told her daughter. Elizabeth's rosy bottom lip protruded. "That only works on your father." _

_Dizzy and out of breath, Trip flopped down next to his girls and watched as T'Pol struggled to apply lotion to a squirming little girl who had no intention of cooperating. Finally, he intervened with a quiet, but serious, "Beth." The tone in her father's voice worked and Elizabeth stopped fighting. _

_Once the task was complete, T'Pol tucked a wayward curl of her daughter's brown hair behind her pointed ear. "Are you hungry?" _

_Still pouting, Elizabeth shook her head. "I wanna build a sand castle." She looked at Trip, pleading, "Help me, Daddy?"_

_Once glance at his wife's face told Trip what his answer needed to be. "Why don't you start without me, sweet pea?" He handed Elizabeth her pink plastic bucket and shovel. "Stay outta the water," Trip told her as she scrambled to her feet. "And watch out for..." Elizabeth was already running off. "...sharp shells," he finished. Smiling, he looked back at T'Pol. "Maybe she'll be an architect one day." _

_"Anything is possible." T'Pol lowered her glasses and lay back against the towels. Undaunted by her unspoken request to be left alone, Trip walked two of his fingers across her bare belly. She sighed in exasperation, but made no other motion to indicate that she acknowledged his touch. Trip decided to take it to the next level. _

_When his lips touched her skin next to her navel, T'Pol sat up on her elbows. "What are you doing?"_

_He moved his mouth up, over the defined edge of her ribcage. "What does it look like I'm doin'?"_

_"We are in public," she reminded him. "Our daughter is nearby." He brushed a kiss across the white fabric of her bikini top, directly over the peaked center of her breast. "Trip..."_

_Sitting up straight, Trip set one hand on the opposite side of her body, looming over her in order to look down at her. With his free hand, he removed her sunglasses. "She's real lucky to have you as a mama." He kissed her lips softly. "But I think I'm the luckiest one of all." _

Trip opened his eyes, fully expecting to see a tanned, glowing T'Pol looking back at him. But rather than her beautiful eyes, all he saw was the alien green of Ah'len's.

Flooded with disappointment, Trip put a hand to his aching head as he sat up. "What happened?"

"You needed rest," Ah'len said. "Just like the last time you were here." Lifting a piece of clear gel from the bowl on her lap, she teased, "Even old pros must stay hydrated."

Trip let her feed him the cube, but something nagged at the back of his mind. On his last visit, he had felt great after getting a little shut-eye. This time, however, he felt ten times worse.

"Is it normal for your species to talk while sleeping?"

He frowned. "I talked in my sleep?" Ah'len nodded. Trip stopped her from slipping another water cube between his lips. "What did I say?"

"You repeated two words. Our translators couldn't interpret them, though." Ah'len searched his fast. "Elizabeth and..."

"T'Pol." He leaned back against the curved wall. "Yeah. That explains the headache." When she shook her head, he explained, "I was just dreamin'. Do y'all have dreams?"

Ah'len set the bowl aside. "We sleep very little, but when we do, there are unconscious thoughts, yes. Elizabeth and T'Pol are proper nouns?" He nodded. "Female names?"

Trip's Adam's apple bobbed. "Elizabeth was...she was my daughter." He paused. "T'Pol was her mother."

"They both passed into the Unknown?" Ah'len asked after a moment.

He had no idea why, and it probably wasn't at all logical, but for some reason, Trip found himself telling her the story of Elizabeth's short, but precious life. And for a second, just a second, he felt better, as if a burden had been lifted from his chest.

"I am very sorry for your loss," Ah'len said, reaching for his hand. "But perhaps you and her mother could create another child. Not as a replacement, but as a way to bring joy back into both your lives."

Trip shook his head. "'Fraid that's not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"'Cause unlike here, where I come from, it takes two to tango. Or at least it should. T'Pol and I...we haven't tangoed in a very long time," he confessed. "And we're not likely to start anytime soon."

"Tango?" Ah'len repeated.

He tried to smile. "Doesn't really translate." Trip stood and looked around. "Think Tu'len would show me the rest of her zoo?" Without waiting for an answer, he started off in search of the little girl who wasn't his daughter exactly, but was the closest thing he might ever have again.

* * *

_"Anything is possible." Returning her sunglasses to their proper position, T'Pol lay back on the towels. _

_It should have been a signal for Trip to leave her alone with her thoughts, but in the entire time she had known her husband, he had never been big on doing what was expected of him, but rather what his very Human instincts told him was right._

_And apparently his Human instinct at that moment was to try to provoke her into a reaction, first with his fingers and then..._

_She felt his breath on her skin only a second before his lips made contact. The sensation was like a bolt of electricity; T'Pol immediately sat up just enough to look down at the top of his sandy head. "What are you doing?"_

_"What does it look like I'm doin'?" Trip planted a line of kisses up towards her ribs._

_"We are in public." T'Pol's breath caught in her throat as he reached her breasts. "Our daughter is nearby." Clearly, her body cared about that fact about as much as he did. Her nipples were taut with undeniable desire which only increased when he brushed his mouth across one through her swimsuit. "Trip..."_

_Aligning himself over her body, Trip looked at her with mischief in his eyes as he took off her sunglasses. "She's real lucky to have you as a mama." T'Pol closed her eyes when his lips touched hers. "But I think I'm the luckiest one of all." _

_"Daddy!" Elizabeth's cry broke the moment as they shot to attention, each of them seeking out their daughter across the rolling slope of the beach. _

_Upon coming to the same conclusion that she wasn't hurt, only intent on having her father's help with her sandcastle sooner rather than later, Trip chuckled with resignation. "Guess I'm bein' summoned." He winked. "To be continued?" _

_Trip rose to his feet and jogged off. Drawing her knees up to her chest, T'Pol watched him reach Elizabeth and pick her up, lifting her to the sky before setting her back down. Together, they started piling wet sand into the pink bucket. _

_She couldn't help but enjoy the sight of the lean muscles in her husband's arms rippling as he dug a moat for the castle. _

_Trip must have felt her eyes on him; his head turned towards her and he smiled, that provocative grin that made her stomach twist and her heart pound._

_"T'Pol." His mouth was moving, but it wasn't his voice calling her name. "T'Pol...T'Pol..."_

"T'Pol?" Her lashes fluttered and lifted. The light above her was too bright; it kept her from clearly seeing the face that looked down at her, but she recognized the voice after a second. "Can you hear me?"

"Doctor?" She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. "I can hear you."

Phlox smiled. "Do you know where you are?"

"Sickbay. Obviously."

When she tried to sit up, the Denobulan doctor stopped her. "Not just yet. You had quite a fall, you know. I'm afraid you scared poor Ensign Sato half to death." He ran a tricorder up and down the length of her body. "Can you remember what happened?"

"Some." T'Pol craned her neck to see the display screens on the wall behind her. "I was light-headed."

"Yes," he agreed. "The copper levels in your blood were very low; it's little wonder you lost consciousness."

"Have you discovered why?"

Phlox side-stepped the question. "I've given you a hypospray to help bring up your copper count. You should feel better soon. Tell me..." He moved the tricorder over her again, taking a second reading. "Have you experienced any other unusual symptoms lately? Sleeplessness, altered appetite, even nausea?"

T'Pol met his eyes. "What is wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, per se."

"But there is something." Ignoring his order, T'Pol sat up. "Tell me."

The doctor helped her turn around to see the med-screen. With a press of a button, he put an image from his tricorder on display for her. Her eyes narrowed, then grew wider as she realized what the picture was.

"I don't get to say this often enough, but congratulations, T'Pol." Phlox patted her hand. "You're pregnant."

* * *

To Be Continued


	5. Possibility

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for hanging on with this story, whether you love pregnancy fics or not. I hope you'll find this one...different:)

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_So tell me when my sigh's over_

_You're the reason why I'm closed_

_Tell me when you hear me fallin'_

_There's a possibility it wouldn't show_

_- Lykke Li, "Possibility"_

* * *

"That is impossible."

Phlox blinked; there was a level of conviction in T'Pol's statement that he hadn't been expecting. "Is it?" he asked.

"Yes." T'Pol tore her eyes away from the image on the med-screen. "Check your readings again, Doctor."

"I have," he insisted. "Several times. I always arrive at the same conclusion. You are..."

"I am not pregnant!" Her sharp, angry words echoed around Sickbay, startling them both for different reasons. T'Pol counted to ten and released a breath before added, "I have not had sexual relations in almost two years."

Phlox cleared his throat. "Forgive me for this, but it didn't take sexual relations to create Elizabeth, did it?"

"That was different." T'Pol touched her stomach. "Perhaps I am hosting a parasite."

"Well, in a way, you are. Just one that will expel itself in another seven months, give or take a week or two."

T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "Do you find this amusing, Doctor?"

"I don't. Far from it, actually." There wasn't a trace of mirth on his usually merry face. "But I stand by my diagnosis." He paused. "It isn't very logical to deny what's clearly in front of us, hmm?" A shadow crossed his face. "Do you believe you might have been...violated without your knowledge?"

"I..." She shook her head. "It seems highly unlikely." A moment of heavy silence passed. "Can you tell who..."

"I can't know who fathered the child without obtaining a sample of its DNA. To do that would require a procedure that could endanger the fetus."

T'Pol lowered her eyes. "I need to know." Looking up again, she asked, "Are any preparations necessary or could you proceed immediately?"

Phlox hesitated. "Perhaps there's someone who should be here, to help make these sort of decisions?"

"And just who do you have in mind?"

There was enough ice in her voice to squelch any further questions. "We can start now. Lie back." T'Pol complied. A second later, he pressed a hypospray against her neck. "Relax," Phlox ordered. "This won't hurt a bit."

True to his word, there was no pain, only a dull pressure in her lower abdomen that would stay with her long afterwards. A hour later, the doctor returned from his lab with the results.

T'Pol could feel nausea settling back in as she waited with more patience than could be expected, even of a Vulcan.

"Who?" she finally asked, unable to take it any longer.

Phlox seemed torn between emotions, if the shifting of his eyes was any indication. Finally, he lowered his chin to look down at the PADD in his hand. "I think you already know the answer. But if you need to hear it..." He braved a glance up at her. "It's Commander Tucker." With a faint smile, he added, "Isn't it always?"

* * *

Two days on board the Xyrillian ship had done wonders for Trip's disposition. Not only had he finally, after much bribery that included sacrificing some of the boiled peanuts he'd stashed in his bag, made friends with Nalahlan, the grumpy blue eel that Tu'len adored, but he had also tweaked the ship's teraphasic coils and tinkered with the warp engine until it fairly purred in his hands.

But all good things had to come to an end. Too soon for Trip's liking, a message came from the _Enterprise_: they wanted their chief engineer back.

As soon as Trip annouced he would be leaving, Tu'len let loose with a high-pitched wail. And although Ah'len did her best to calm the child, she only stopped crying when Trip crouched down in front of her, putting himself at her eye level.

"Hey, kiddo." He gestured to her face. "What's all this?"

Tu'len voice was pitiful and nearly made Trip change his mind about leaving. "Why do you have to go?"

"Trip has obligations to his own ship," Ah'len said. "You're old enough now to understand that."

"You'll come back, though." Tu'len sniffed. "Won't you?"

Trip tweaked her chin. "Try and stop me."

After giving the girl a hug, Trip straightened up and looked at Ah'len. "Thank you. We've got a lotta enemies out here. It's nice to know we've got some friends, too."

"Friends." Ah'len took the hand he offered her and squeezed it. "Good luck, Trip. Be happy."

He winked before ducking into the decompression chamber. "I'm surely gonna try." The door closed behind him, sealing him away for the next three hours.

It was the first time he'd been left alone with his thoughts in two days, but rather than using the time to deconstruct the dream about T'Pol and Elizabeth on the beach, Trip watched a movie on his PADD, a violent, psychological drama that kept his mind occupied for almost the entire time.

Before he knew it, his communicator beeped; it was Travis, announcing the arrival of Shuttlepod One.

As Trip climbed out of the airlock and into the shuttle, Travis grabbed his bag. "How'd it go, Commander?" he asked.

"Good." Trip brought the shuttle's door down, latching it into place. "Real good." He sat back into the passenger's seat with a sigh. "I swear, just when I think I've seen everythin' weird over there, there's furry eel or somethin'."

"I'd love to go over someday," Travis admitted. He took the pilot's seat and pressed a few buttons. "_Enterprise_, this is Shuttlepod One. We're on our way back."

Trip dug into his bag. "I picked up some of that grass they got. Case anyone wants to give it a shot." As he rooted around, trying to find the container, he asked, "Anythin' big happen while I was gone?" When a few seconds had passed without a reply, Trip looked to the younger man. "Travis? Did you get that?"

Travis cleared his throat. "Sir..." he started.

"Sir?" Trip chuckled. "You better not be about to tell me somethin' bad's happened to one of my engines." Travis wasn't laughing, which wiped away Trip's smile. "What is it?"

"I don't know any details, Commander, but apparently..." He hesitated. "Commander T'Pol was taken to Sickbay the other day. She was with Hoshi when she just..passed out."

Color drained from Trip's face, like bleach suddenly ran through his veins. The shock of the news only lasted a minute; it was almost immediately replaced by mounting fear, which came out as anger, let loose on the messenger.

"Why the hell didn't anyone call me?" Trip demanded. "Why am I only just hearin' 'bout this?"

Travis shook his head. "I don't know, sir. Maybe it wasn't anything serious. I mean, she was back on duty the very next day." He glanced back at Trip. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

Trip held up his hand. "No, I'm glad you did. I might never've known otherwise." He cursed sharply as he ran his hands down his face. "I swear to god...that woman's gonna be the death of me."

Choosing to pretend he hadn't heard this, Travis concentrated on bringing the shuttle into the landing bay as perfectly as possible.

* * *

In the dark peace of her quarters, T'Pol took a sip of soda water and waited to see if it would stay down. When it did, she took another, slightly larger sip.

Two days of nothing but Plomeek broth and carbonated beverages had left her pale and tired, but they were the only food items that her stomach hadn't rejected. For some reason, the conscious knowledge of her pregnancy had triggered what the Doctor had affectionately referred to as "morning sickness," a falsely-advertised affliction as it plagued her at all hours of the day.

Phlox had been right; there was no logic in denying the fact that she was pregnant. Still, logic had yet to provide an explanation as to exactly how she was carrying Trip's child at all...not the first time it had failed her and likely not the last either.

He would have to be told about the baby, of course, but T'Pol already knew that he wouldn't believe it was his. He'd had a hard time believing in Elizabeth's existence and at least then the timing had been right for there to have been the possibility that she was a result of their sexual relationship.

This time, that possibility simply didn't exist, couldn't exist. The last time she and Trip had engaged in intercourse was after the completion of the Xindi mission, before her wedding to Koss. Neither Vulcan nor Human gestation, nor a combination of the two, lasted for anywhere near twenty months.

At the sound of the door chime, T'Pol set her glass aside and stood up. She already knew who it was; convinced that she needed real food to nourish the baby, Phlox had promised to stop by with a hypospray to settle her stomach so she could avoid the sights and scents of Sickbay.

"Come in."

She was prepared for a smiling physician. What she got was a frantic engineer.

Trip crossed to the far side of her quarters before he turned around to face her. His cheeks and chin were covered with stubble, his hair was unkempt, as if he'd been pulling at it. But it was his eyes that caught her attention; she had never seen him look so frightened.

"I went to Sickbay." His chest rose and fell, like he'd been running. "Doc wouldn't tell me a damn thing; he just kept sayin' I had to talk to you." Trip moved closer to her. "Travis said you passed out. What the hell happened, T'Pol?"

"Please." Drawing what was left of her strength, she gestured to the bed. "Have a seat."

"I don't wanna have a damn seat," Trip snapped. "I wanna know what's goin' on." He reached out to touch her cheek. "Honey, I've seen more color on blank sheet of paper." Her lashes fluttered as he cupped her face in the warm palm of his hand. "Are you okay?"

Grasping his wrist, she pulled his hand down, away from her cheek, and took a step back. "There's something I need to tell you."

Trip turned in place, watching her walk around him towards her meditation spot. "I never like it when you say that." Folding his arms over his chest, he braced himself for whatever was coming. "All right. Go ahead."

T'Pol sank down onto a silk pillow. After another moment, she looked up at him. "Promise me something first."

He tipped his head to the side. "Promise you...?" Off her look, he spread his hands in surrender. "Sure. 'Course. What am I promisin'?"

"That you will think before you react." T'Pol put a hand to her stomach. "I need you to remember that just because something seems impossible, that does not mean there isn't a logical explaination yet to be discovered."

Trip frowned. "All right." She looked at him expectantly and he bobbed his head. "I promise."

T'Pol inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I'm going to have a child." Her voice lowered, until it was nearly inaudible. "Your child."

After a full minute of staring her, Trip stalked out of the room.

* * *

To Be Continued


	6. Almost Lovers

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Plugging along, thanks to all the incredibly kind reviews. Thank you so much;) Enjoy...

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_So long my luckless romance_

_My back is turned on you_

_Should have known you'd bring me heartache_

_Almost lovers always do_

_- A Fine Frenzy, "Almost Lovers"_

* * *

He had no idea where he was going. He just needed to go.

But T'Pol was like a magnet; he had never been able to stay away from her for long. It took Trip ten minutes to circle the entire deck, only to find himself right back at her door.

He didn't bother with pleasant formalities. Instead of asking for permission to enter, he punched in the security override code and the door slid open.

She was in the exact same position as ten minutes earlier, only her chin was lowered to her chest as she sat in an otherwise perfect meditation posture. She didn't look up when he barged into her quarters.

"I've never known you to make a real good joke, much less a cruel one, so I'm not even gonna ask if you're pullin' my leg," he started.

T'Pol's voice was quiet, detached. "You promised you would think before you reacted."

Trip folded his arms. "Yeah, and I kept that promise by gettin' the hell outta here 'fore I said somethin' I'd regret."

"A touch dramatic, don't you think?"

"No more so than tellin' a guy you haven't slept with in almost two years that you're gonna have his kid."

T'Pol refused to lift her head. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe." After a long second, he sighed, throwing his own head back to stare at the ceiling, as if the answer might be there. "How?" was all he could think to ask.

"I have no idea." T'Pol looked up at the same moment he looked back down; the sight of glistening tear tracks on her expressionless face was like a punch to his gut. "Do you?"

It took a second for the implication to hit him and when it did, it was like the proverbial ton of bricks. "What are you sayin'? You think I mighta done somethin' to you without you knowin' 'bout it?"

"I never said that." Her lashes lowered. "I would never say that."

"Damn right!" he snapped, pacing back and forth in front of her. "'Cause I'd rather take a phase pistol to my..."

T'Pol cut him off, "I'm sorry, Trip. I never meant to suggest that."

He came to a full stop right in front of her. "This is real." It wasn't a question or a statement, but something in between. "You're pregnant." She nodded. "And it's mine."

"According to Phlox, yes."

Trip blew out a breath. "I just...I don't get it." He paused. "I want to be over the freakin' moon about it, but I can't 'cause it doesn't make any damn sense!"

T'Pol slowly stood up, wiping away the remains of the two tears she had let slip in the aftermath of his angry departure. "The logical starting point in solving this mystery would be to find out exactly how old the fetus is, to narrow down a time frame for conception. Phlox is calculating the date based on the normal developments of both Human and Vulcan zygotes."

"Fetus? Zygote?" he repeated with distaste. "Can we at least call it a baby?"

"I would rather not."

"Why's that?" Trip pressed. "Too sentimental?"

Her reply was cool, almost cold. "You seem to be adapting to the idea of this pregnancy fairly quickly."

He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still knocked on my ass, and I sure wanna know just how it happened, but...hell, honey..." A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I've been pregnant myself. After that, nothin's really all that surprisin' anymore. 'Sides, far as I'm concerned..." Trip took a step towards her. "The idea of havin' a baby with you...there's a lot I like about that."

T'Pol let him reach for her, allowed him to take her hand. She stared at their entwined fingers for a long time before glancing up at him. "Aren't you afraid of what might..."

"Phlox to T'Pol."

It took T'Pol a moment to detach herself from Trip in order to reply. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"May I speak freely?" he asked.

T'Pol looked straight at Trip. "Yes."

"I've finished my calculations and I believe I have an answer for you regarding the age of the fetus." Unaware of Trip muttering under his breath about babies being more than just cells, Phlox went on, "The earliest that conception could have occurred would have been eight weeks ago. There's a margin of error, of course, but no more than a day or so, I should think."

"Thank you, Doctor." T'Pol pressed the button to close the communication. Silence hung between them until she said, "Eight weeks."

Trip crossed to her bed and sat down on the edge. "Two months." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What was goin' on two months ago?"

Perhaps it was the bond or perhaps their minds just worked at the same speed, but almost at the exact same time, both Trip and T'Pol realized.

"The Barlatians."

* * *

_**Eight weeks earlier**_

_"Let me get this straight." Seated across the situation room table from T'Pol, Archer tried to process what his science officer had just told him. "You think that's the most logical explanation for all of this?"_

_T'Pol stood her ground. "There have been rumors that the Barlatians have been experimenting with time manipulation for years, however, the High Command never believed they had the intelligence to develop such advanced technology."_

_"Suppose they'll have to rethink that now," Malcolm snorted. _

_"That's only if we're ever able to tell 'em about it," Trip said. Turning to the captain, he continued, "I know it sounds crazy, sir, but it really does make sense when you think about it. I mean, you can't fake the decay rate in the warp reactor. It's been runnin' for six more days than it should have been." _

_"Time loops are a rare, but not unheard-of phenomena," T'Pol reminded them. "We've experienced one before, only on a much smaller scale." _

_Archer shook his head. "Why would the Barlatians do this? What could they possibly gain from us repeating the same twenty-four hours, over and over again?"_

_"I suggest we check the entire ship for any missing parts, whether they seem minor or not." _

_Trip looked at T'Pol "You think they're stealin' from us, hopin' that if we notice anythin's gone, we'll just forget about it in the next loop 'round?"_

_"It's the most likely motivation," she reaffirmed. "There's a reason the High Command underestimated them; they're scavengers." _

_"So, what are we supposed to do?" Hoshi spoke up. "Even if we figure out a way to break the loop, won't we just forget it when time resets itself? _

_"Which is only three hours from now," Phlox added. "Based on my interrupted sleep cycle." _

_"Just as I recorded a message to myself, we'll have to leave records of our findings in places where they will not go unnoticed. I would suggest employing pencil and paper. I almost neglected to check my console for messages this morning," T'Pol admitted. _

_Archer nodded. "Let's get on that. Everything we have, on paper, before time runs out. Malcolm, use the next three hours to figure out what they might have taken. Write it all down." He stood up and the rest of his senior staff followed suit. "If there's another twenty-four hours of this day waiting for us, I want it to be the last one we'll have to live through. Dismissed." _

_Trip caught up with T'Pol at the turbolift. "Need any help?" he asked. _

_"I would imagine you have quite a lot of writing to do, if you are to make thorough notes for yourself about the warp decay discrepancies." _

_"I never would've found those discrepancies without you." Trip couldn't keep a smile off his face. "'Course, you didn't need to kiss me to get me to pay attention to your story." _

_T'Pol was nonplussed. "I kissed you to demonstrate a point."_

_"And what was that?" His smile morphed into a full grin. "That you really like kissin' me?"_

_The turbolift door opened, but rather than immediately entering, T'Pol just turned her head to glare at him. "It was necessary to trigger your sense of deja vu."_

_Trip followed her into the lift. "See, that only means that you've kissed me before in these twenty-four hours." He pulled at his chin, like a cartoon villian. "Wonder what could've lead to that?"_

_"It's unlikely we'll ever know. As we become aware of the loop, more and more changes will be made to the timeline." She pressed the button for B deck. "But I can assure you, this particular event will not be repeated in the next loop."_

_"You don't know that," Trip challenged. "Not if you don't know why you got the feelin' that you did it in the first place. You're likely to just wind up kissin' me again." _

_The lift stopped and the doors opened. "Remember to make concise notes for yourself," T'Pol ignored his observation. "The more work you do now, the less you'll have to do later." _

_But Trip wasn't so easily dismissed. He followed her all the way to her quarters. "Aren't you the least bit curious?" Putting a hand against the wall, he caught her before she could open the door. "T'Pol...look at me." _

_With great reluctance, she lifted her eyes to meet his. _

_"In three hours, we're gonna forget we even had this conversation. Is it really so hard for you to admit that you've still got feelin's for me?"_

_"No harder than it is for you to accept that even Humans can't act on every feeling they have." Reaching past him, T'Pol opened the door. "We both have work to do." _

_Trip slipped in behind her. "Don't know about you, but I can write real fast when I have to." He moved closer, until there was virtually no space between them. "Maybe I kissed you and started all of this. Did you ever think of that?"_

_"You would never kiss me without my permission." _

_"Then..." He tilted her chin up and lowered his own. "Give me permission." _

_"Trip..." T'Pol willed herself to pull away, but he was too close and he smelled too good. Her eyes closed; her lips parted...and he didn't hesitate. _

_Kissing madly, groping wildly...they hit the bed in a tangle of limbs and half-undone clothes. The sound of heaving breathing echoed around the room, occasionally punctuated by a whimper of need or a moan of pleasure, building up to crescendo that made them both grateful for the soundproof walls. _

_When they lay entwined beneath the sheets,Trip ran his fingers up and down the smooth length of T'Pol's arm._

_"I'm not gonna forget this." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'll put it in my notes, if I have to."_

_She closed her eyes, too sated to argue with him over the logic of that. _

_"I miss you, darlin'." Trip must have believed she was asleep because he went on as if she couldn't hear him. "More than you'll ever know. I'm kinda glad you don't miss me, though." His words slowed as he dozed off. "Only one of us should have to walk around with a busted heart..." _

_T'Pol gave him ten minutes to sleep before she woke him up with a kiss. It would be another forty-five minutes before they started working on their notes. _

_But when the three hour mark came, every touch, every kiss, every unspoken word was forgotten. _

* * *

"What the hell did we do? And how many times did we do it?"

"I think it's clear what we did," T'Pol replied, one hand on her lower belly. "The question now is this: what are we going to do about the consequence of our actions?"

"Do?" Trip rose to his feet. "What do you mean?" She turned away from him, but not before he caught a glimpse of her trembling chin. "T'Pol?" He reached out, touching her back, urging her to face him. "Honey..."

"You don't see it yet, but you will." Her shoulders shook beneath his hand. "Trip..." T'Pol twisted her neck just enough to look back him. "We can't have this baby."

* * *

To Be Continued


	7. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I feel like it's time to talk about the viability of naturally-occurring, non-medically-aided Vulcan-Human hybrids. Basically, my entire argument in favor of it can be boiled down to one example and, surprisingly, it's not Spock. It's Tasha Yar's daughter, Sela, the product of an alternate timeline where the Human Tasha was forced to become the consort of a Romulan general. Now, knowing that Romulans and Vulcans have the same basic biology down to their green blood, there's canonical proof in the ST universe that Vulcan and Human sex cells can combine just fine without a doctor's help.

That's not to say, however, that it always works perfectly...

Thanks so much for all the reviews on the last chapter, even the critical ones. I'm a big believer in honest critique and I will admit...hard sci-fi is hard. I appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt on that front;)

Hope you enjoy this chapter. And thanks again!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Someday I'll wish upon a star

Wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where trouble melts like lemon pops

High above the chimney top

That's where you'll find me

- Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"

* * *

_January 2155_

_"I wanna hold her." _

_T'Pol turned her head towards him, but Trip refused to look away from the daughter they had only known about for three days. The child who grew weaker with every tiny breath she took. _

_Standing just behind them, the _Enterprise's_ doctor hesitated. "Her respiration has deteriorated in just the past hour. Exposing her to normal air might..." He stopped because they already knew and didn't need to hear it out loud. "Besides, your arm isn't strong enough to..."_

_"Doc." His voice hoarse. She closed her eyes as Trip struggled to speak. "I don't give a damn about my arm. Let me hold my little girl...so she doesn't have to die in this box." _

_T'Pol forced her eyes open just in time to see Phlox lift Elizabeth from the plastic oxygen chamber. Despite her high fever, the baby's cheeks were pale. Her eyes...the same shade of blue as Trip's...blinked as she tried, but failed to focus on the faces around her. _

_They were losing her a little more with each passing moment._

_Phlox placed the baby in her father's good arm and it was all T'Pol could do to hold back a wave of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her body and soul. _

_"Hey there, angel." Trip smiled down at the baby. Rather than flailing like a healthy child's would have, her hands lay listless at her sides. "Aren't you beautiful? Just like your mama." A tear dripped off the end of his nose. "I want you to know...she and I are gonna be right here with you, okay? You're never gonna be alone again, I promise." _

_Elizabeth just lay in the crook of his elbow, her chest expanding and falling with each slow, painful breath. _

_It would have been too much for a Vulcan with perfect control. For T'Pol, the scene was unbearable. She could feel her emotions slipping through her fingers; she grabbed the edge of the nearest stationary object, a bio-bed, as she fought to hold them back. But her mind, while healed, had been forever changed, not just by Trellium-D, but by him...Charles Tucker the Third...the most powerful drug she'd ever taken. _

_"Excuse me." Trip looked up just in time to see T'Pol exit the Sickbay doors, but not quick enough to prevent her from leaving._

_She managed to get almost all the way to her quarters before Trip caught up with her. "T'Pol!" He made a grab for her wrist, to stop her, but she shook off his grip. "T'Pol, you gotta stop!"_

_When Trip made a second attempt to catch her, she turned back just enough to push him away, using enough force to send him stumbling. Anyone else would have taken it as a clear sign to get the hell away from the emotionally compromised Vulcan. _

_But Trip knew her better. _

_Upon over-taking her stride, he seized her arm, not painfully, but not gently either, and swung her around until they were eye to eye. _

_"Let go of me."_

_Trip ignored the dangerous tone of her voice. "I understand," was all he said._

_Her face was like marble, cold and immobile. "You understand what?"_

_"Everythin' you're feelin'." Trip pressed her hand to the center of his chest and held it there. "I understand it, 'cause I'm feelin' it, too. Only difference is...I don't have to hide it." He shook his head. "I can't imagine what it must be like to have to keep all of this from showin'." _

_"I'm Vulcan." She jerked her hand back. "That's our way." _

_A flicker of hurt darted across his face, yet he simply took a second to collect himself before he nodded. "I know. But darlin'...if there's ever a time when you don't have to act like a Vulcan...it's right now." He touched the tip of her ear. "With me."_

_Several long seconds passed. The corridor was blissfully empty, but so quiet that T'Pol could hear her own breath. Suddenly and without warning, the past 72 hours caught up with her. Exhausted to her very bones, her body sagged against Trip's. Her head tucked beneath his chin, her cheek pressed against the zipper of his uniform and although she made no motion to embrace him, he wrapped his good arm around her and just held on. _

_"Sickbay to Commander Tucker."_

_T'Pol lifted her head. As quickly as it had faded, the tension in her shoulders returned. She watched Trip's Adam's apple bob as he reached for the nearest comm panel. "Tucker here." All too aware of the likely reason behind the Doctor's call, his face nearly crumpled, but he managed to get out a quiet, "We're on our way back."_

_In the end, it was T'Pol who cradled Elizabeth when she took her last breath, with Trip right next to her. Their baby had no strength left, not even enough to wrap her fist around her father's pinky, so Trip held her tiny palm between his fingers as she closed her eyes for the last time. T'Pol watched as that final breath passed out of her daughter's body. _

_When it became clear that Elizabeth was gone, Trip's forehead dropped to her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his tears through her sleeve as she stared straight ahead, her eyes seeing nothing, her heart feeling everything and her mind screaming one thing over and over._

_Never again._

* * *

Jonathan Archer was just settling down with a good book and a glass of wine when the door chimed. On the bed next to him, Porthos lifted his head from his paws and barked once, just in case his master hadn't heard that someone was outside.

"Thanks, boy." Patting the beagle's head, Archer said, "Come in."

He knew something was very wrong with his chief engineer from the moment he stepped through the door; it didn't look like Trip had changed his uniform since his return from the Xyrillian ship, much less showered or shaved.

"Trip?" Setting aside his book, Archer rose to his feet. "Is everything all right?"

"No." Running a hand down his stubbled chin, Trip chuckled bitterly. "It sure as hell isn't." Knowing the man well enough to understand that he sometimes needed to get his head straight before he spoke, Archer gave him a minute to gather his thoughts.

But he wasn't at all prepared for what came next.

"You and I...we haven't really talked much the past year or so, have we?"

As much as Archer wanted to deny this was true, he wouldn't do what was left of their friendship the disservice of lying.

"I think I know why," Trip went on, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "I kinda hope I'm wrong, though."

Archer cleared his throat, crossed his arms, glanced away. "You're probably not," he finally said.

There was a moment of silence before Trip sighed. "I'm sorry, Capt'n."

He made himself look back at Trip. "I don't ever want a friend of mine to be sorry for being happy."

"Happy?" Another, even more bitter laugh escaped his usually jovial engineer. "Wouldn't exactly say that's what I've been." He paused. "But I knew what I signed on for when this whole thing started. I just never thought..." Trip's throat closed up.

"Trip, what's..."

"She's pregnant."

He had lived through news of almost this exact nature twice before with Lorian and Elizabeth; he could make it through again.

"Yours?" Archer asked, surprised that his voice at least sounded steady. Hands on his waist, Trip briefly closed his eyes, all the answer that was needed. "Well. Congratulations."

Trip frowned as his captain sat down on the edge of his bed. "Forgive me for this, but is that really all you've got to say?"

"What do you want to hear, Trip?" With one elbow on his knee, Archer leaned to the side, gesturing with his free hand. "I just found out that my second and third in command are not only romantically involved, but are expecting a baby, something which, as far as I know, will remove one or both of them from this ship in the future."

"It's not like we planned this." There was a touch of insubordinate anger in Trip's words that Archer chose to ignore.

"You clearly didn't try to prevent it, either."

Trip's jaw clenched. "We didn't even know we'd been together." Off Archer's confused look, he added, "The Bartlatians."

Ever since the incident, the entire ship had been trying to piece together exactly what had happened in that lost week. There were still more questions than answers, such as how their internal clocks had been set back twenty-four hours and their minds wiped seven times, but nothing else on board had been thusly affected. Archer himself had only a few scattered personal notes to account for all the time he'd lost. They might never know the full story, never know what they'd said or done in that time.

Could he really blame Trip and T'Pol for taking advantage of the situation? Frankly, given their history, he was surprised they'd held out as long as they had.

"But don't worry, Capt'n." As charming as a Southern accent could be, it could also cut like a knife when laced with hurt and sarcasm. "T'Pol doesn't want this baby any more than you want her to have it." He started for the door. "I shouldn't've come here."

"Trip...wait!" Even in such a state, Trip was still a good officer and when ordered, he stopped. "I reacted badly." Archer paused. "I'm sorry."

When his old friend finally looked back, his eyes were red with unshed tears. "She wants to get rid of it, Jon."

"Vulcans don't do that," Archer said after a moment.

Trip rubbed his rumpled sleeve across his face, blowing out a laugh. "You and I both know she's not your average Vulcan."

The ghost of a smile touched the captain's lips. "No, she isn't. But I still don't believe she would ever kill a child. Not after..." He didn't say Elizabeth's name; he didn't need to. "Give her some time, Trip."

"You should've heard her...statin' all the facts, layin' out the logic...expectin' me to arrive to the same damn conclusion!"

"What did she say?"

"I don't know...I kinda stopped payin' attention to her when she started talkin' genetics. Got outta there pretty quickly after that." He shrugged. "Biology's never been my thing."

The captain bit back a smile. "Better at anatomy?"

"Alien relations," Trip countered.

For a moment, it was like the past few years hadn't happened and they were just two good friends again, setting out on an adventure across the stars. But it quickly passed as the weight of the situation brought them both back to the present.

Trip slowly shook his head back and forth. "Am I an idiot, thinkin' I might ever get to be a dad the old-fashioned way?"

Archer held his tongue. It wouldn't help to remind Trip that if he'd wanted a traditional life, he probably shouldn't have gotten involved with a Vulcan.

But then again, it was T'Pol. He understood all too well why Trip had made the choices he had.

"What can I do to help?"

"I need you in my corner," Trip said, his voice grave. "Maybe it's just a weird mix of hormones that's makin' her crazy right now, but if it's more than that...I'm gonna need your help."

He was almost afraid to ask, "With what?"

"I have to change her mind. And if I can't...I gotta stop her." Trip's face was fixed in an expression Archer had never seen before and didn't care for at all. "She can hate me for the rest of her very long life, but I am not gonna stand by and let another child of mine die." He vowed, "Never again."

* * *

To Be Continued


	8. Secret Garden

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I took a few days to really think this story over. Not about whether I wanted to finish it or not, because I know that I do, but some of the feedback I've gotten has made me question how I'm telling it. Those people know that I appreciate their honest critique, but I want to take a moment to thank Brandyjane and Gerriv for putting a smile on my face when I needed it the most.

We all come to fan fic for different reasons, but I think the core is the same for all of us: we want to play in these universes. Do we always do it perfectly? Probably not. Do we keep trying to be better? Definitely. I know I do, especially now.

So, to wrap this up, if you're reading this, thank you so much for sticking with the story. I hope it's worth your while:) Know that I'm doing everything I can to make it so.

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_She'll let you in her heart_

_If you've got a hammer and a vice_

_But into her secret garden_

_Don't think twice_

_- Bruce Springsteen, "Secret Garden"_

* * *

Trip was absolutely shocked that sleep managed to find him that night, but two days in the oppressive Xyrillian atmosphere, plus the mental strain that came with finding out he was going to be a father, but that T'pol didn't want to be a mother, ensured that not only did he fall asleep, but he did so deeply and dreamlessly.

He woke to a new day, a second chance to make T'Pol see reason. She was a logical woman; he just need to find the right words to make her see that there was no logic in terminating this pregnancy.

But if logic didn't work, he was fully prepared to resort to an emotional argument. T'Pol wasn't immune to the power of emotions; he knew that better than anyone. All he had to do was make her love their baby as much as he already did.

As to how he was going to do that...he had no idea. But he was an engineer; there wasn't much he couldn't figure out given the right parts.

Showered and shaved, Trip's first stop was the mess hall. He bypassed the eggs and bacon and pancakes and went straight for the ubiquitous pot of Plomeek broth. After ladling a big bowl, he carefully arranged a few slices of plain toast onto a plate and added a plump sprig of grapes.

"Huh." Careful to keep steady, Trip turned to see Malcolm standing behind him in the line, examining his tray with interest. "I would have thought that after two days of eating alien grass, you'd be more hungry than that." There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he added, "Unless, of course, you're bringing breakfast to someone else."

"You're a smart guy, Malcolm." Trip walked to the beverage dispenser and stuck a mug inside. "Maybe too smart." To the computer, he ordered, "Tea, hot."

"Is this gesture an apology for going over to the Xyrillian ship?"

"Why do you think I'd have to apologize for that?"

"I just heard a rumor," the British man admitted, "that a certain Vulcan commander wasn't too pleased with your visit. Someone even told me she got sick over it."

Trip set the steaming mug of tea onto the tray. "Look, I got enough on my mind as it is right now without havin' to worry 'bout what's bein' whispered all over this ship, so do an old friend a favor? Drop it?"

Malcolm would have held up his hands in surrender if he hadn't been holding his tray. "Consider it dropped." He paused. "She is all right, though, isn't she?"

"T'Pol?" Balancing the tray with his knee, Trip hit the panel to open the mess hall door. "Never better. And that's a rumor you can feel free to spread around."

* * *

Drawing on every ounce of her emotional control to keep her stomach in a similar state of order and calm, T'Pol stood in front of her washroom mirror, her hands covering her lower abdomen.

There were no visible signs yet, no roundness, no thickness. Given the nature of her customary uniform, however, it would not be long before her condition became noticible. It was perhaps time to consider the benefits of the less shape-defining Starfleet uniforms.

T'Pol turned to the side, her eyes searching for any difference in her appearance from an alternate angle, but still there was no outward change that indicated the great internal change. It was for the best, she told herself, if the pregnancy remained abstract.

Yet she still wasn't able to keep her hands off the place where, deep inside, a child was growing. Her child. Trip's child.

A child that would most likely die before it was ever born.

Turning off the bathroom light, T'Pol walked back into the main room of her quarters. Rather than sit, she simply looked around, taking in the familiar sight of the place where she had resided for five years. When she had first been assigned the room, she had appreciated its bare walls and stark furnishings. So much of Human culture was based on comfort and color; it had been refreshing to find that on their starships, function and efficiency would supercede such sentimentality.

Bringing candles into the room had been necessary in order to meditate. And while the bare floor would have sufficed, it was much easier on one's body to sit on a pillow. If that pillow happened to be made of Triaxian silk, that didn't negate its purpose.

It wasn't until she had to move her ceramic tea set in order to make room for a shellacked alligator head that T'Pol realized her quarters had become a home, with all of the personal touches and comforts at which she had turned up her nose five years earlier.

There was only one person she could think to blame for that. The man who had spent more time in her room than anyone else on board. The man who was responsible for the Triaxian silk and the alligator which he'd brought back from his last trip to a slowly-recovering Florida.

"Couldn't resist," Trip had told her with a grin. "I didn't wrestle him myself, but it's the thought that counts, right? We're all just glad the gators are makin' such a big comeback after so many of 'em got wiped out by the Xindi. You can name him if you want. I'm partial to Billy-Bob. Maybe Bubba."

She could still hear his laughter at the look she'd given him.

T'Pol didn't even notice when her hand drifted back to her belly. How had everything between them changed so fast? They had found some sort of peace in the wake of Elizabeth's death, a mutual need not to dwell on what was past and that included their physical relationship.

Was it the bond that kept drawing them back together? Or was it far more simple than that? Had she been fooling herself into believing that she and Trip could ever be just friends and colleagues?

Because apparently, given the right set of circumstances, she was all too willing to have sexual relations with Trip, regardless of the consequences.

As if on cue, the door chimed and her stomach twisted. For every instinct that told her to ignore the chime, there were two more compelling her to answer, on the off chance it might be him.

"Come in," she finally decided.

T'Pol saw the tray before she saw the man who was carrying it. He held out her breakfast as if it was a white flag.

"Trip."

He poked his sandy head inside. "I come in peace. I promise." Stepping all the way into the room, he waited for the door to slide shut before he added, "I didn't figure you'd be up for the mess hall, 'specially not on corned beef hash day. But I also figured you'd need to eat somethin'."

"I'm not hungry."

Trip set the tray down on her desk. "I was little when Mama was pregnant with Lizzy, but I remember hearin' her throw up like crazy. Dad just kept makin' her toast. Toast and soup." Without anything to hold, he had no idea what to do with his hands, so he clasped them behind his back to keep them still. "Look," he began. "We both said a lot of things last night, but now that we've had some time to sleep and think, maybe we should..."

She cut him off. "Has anything changed in the past twelve hours?"

He frowned. "No. Least, I don't think so." There was a pause. "What do you mean by that?"

"Have you realized that you are Vulcan? Have I suddenly become Human?"

Trip sighed. "You're not makin' any sense, darlin'."

"I'm merely trying to ascertain whether or not this pregnancy has become viable overnight, because if it hasn't, there really isn't anything left for us to discuss."

She never liked it when Trip stared at her as if she'd spawned a second head. "Viable?" he repeated, another indication that his emotions were taking over. "Of course it's viable...it's alive, isn't it?"

"That is debatable."

"I am not gettin' into that argument with you," he snapped. "It's bigger than both of us and totally beside the point. The fact is, we made a baby. You and me. We didn't plan it, but we can't change it. And really..." Trip shook his head. "I don't want to."

T'Pol's stomach churned; the smell of the usually bland broth was overwhelming. "As I told you last night, Human and Vulcan DNA are far too..." She swallowed back a rising gag. "They're different, Trip. They can't combine. There's too many...the chromosomes..."

"But they have combined! You met Lorian. He was over a hundred years old...that's pretty damn viable if you ask me!"

She shook her head. "Phlox altered our...our genes. Without that..."

"What?" Trip's brow crinkled in worry when her hand shot to her mouth. "T'Pol?"

If there had been anything in her stomach, she might not have made it to the bathroom in time. She tried to shut the door, to keep him out, but Trip was at her side within seconds.

"It's all right," he murmured, kneeling down next to her in front of the commode. "Just get it all out, honey."

It should have been humiliating to have him witness such an undignified moment, but as usual, she never felt what she was supposed to when Trip was around. Rather than push him away, she wanted to lean into him, to let him hold her as dry heaves wracked her frame. But before she could, he stood up and grabbed a washcloth.

A moment later, he pressed the cool, damp cloth against the back of her neck. "I didn't know this happened to Vulcan women, too."

"It's rare," she whispered, closing her eyes.

Crouching back down beside her, Trip wiped her forehead and cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I'd do this part for you if I could. I hope you know that."

T'Pol forced her eyes open. "Trip, when we encountered the other _Enterprise_ and we met Lorian...I didn't know what to think."

He smiled. "Me neither."

"I had to know how Phlox did it." Her mouth was painfully dry. "So I started reading his medical logs." T'Pol's throat closed up and it was several seconds before she could go on. "Did you know that Lorian wasn't the first child our counterparts had?"

Trip looked back and forth between her eyes. "He wasn't?"

"No." She drew in a ragged breath as she watched his blue irises. "There were three natural pregnancies within two years." A second passed. "She lost them all."

It was as if the room had depressurized. After a long time, Trip's knees wouldn't hold him up anymore and he sat back on the cold floor.

Finally, when the silence became too much, T'pol added a quiet, "It's illogical to believe that this pregnancy will fare any better."

"Isn't it also kinda illogical to assume it won't?" Trip regained his footing, in order to move closer to her. "Look, this is probably...no, it's definitely the worst time and place to tell you this, but...I love you." Her eyes widened, but it didn't stop him. "I have loved you since..." Trip shrugged. "Since I don't even know when. Seems like it's always been part of me; I've just never been able to say it out loud. Somethin's always stopped me, but not anymore." He touched her cheek. "I love you, T'Pol."

Three such small words. But no one had ever spoken them to her before, not even her own mother.

"I'm not expectin' you to say it back." Trip smiled softly. "I know better. Plus...I don't really need to hear it to know that you feel it, too."

T'Pol lifted her chin. "Is that so?"

"Yep. Wanna know why?"

"Enlighten me."

"Because if you didn't love me, you never would've told me 'bout the baby at all. You would've just...taken care of it while I was with the Xyrillians."

T'Pol dragged herself to her feet. "Ending our child's life without telling you of its existence would have been unforgivable." She frowned. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because." Rising to his feet, Trip grinned down at her. "You didn't say fetus or zygote." Tentatively, he reached for her stomach. "You said 'our child'."

"Trip. Don't."

He followed her into the main room. "Why not? 'Cause it might make you feel somethin' for this baby?"

"Yes." She rounded on him so fast that he actually took a step backwards. "If you love me, how can you ask me to care about another child I won't be able to save?"

"I couldn't save Elizabeth either," Trip reminded her. "And it nearly killed me." He paused. "But I wouldn't give up the time we had with her just to bypass that pain. You said it yourself: she was important. This child, no matter what happens, will be just as important."

T'Pol sank down into the chair at her desk. "As I said last night, which you clearly didn't hear...at the very least, this baby will have severe genetic problems."

"Or it could be perfect. You can't tell me for sure that it won't beat the odds. And you know me, darlin'. You know I don't give up on anything. Certainly not my own kid. No matter what's wrong with its genes."

She snaked her arm across her stomach. "You're Human."

"For once, it doesn't sound like you think that's a bad thing."

"Because it isn't." After glancing at the tray, T'Pol reached for a slice of toast. "Perhaps I should eat something."

He nodded with a barely audible sigh. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"Trip." She stopped him at the door. "Have you ever wondered why I turned away from you after Elizabeth died?"

"Only every day since," he admitted.

Her hand shook as she set the toast back onto the plate. "This is why. So we would never be in this position. I regret that I didn't follow through on my convictions."

Trip walked back to her. "My only regret in this whole thing is that I can't remember makin' this baby. But if it was anything like the times I do remember, I know why it happened, just like I know that I'd do it all over again if I could." He studied her face and she tried not to blink. "Wouldn't you?"

"Please don't ask me that."

He dipped his chin with a faint smile of satisfaction. "That's all the answer I need." She could smell his skin, soap with a touch of sandlewood and it was all she could do not to pull him down for a kiss. "I'll be back to bring you lunch. Less of course you're feelin' up to the mess hall by then. Mama always felt better after some toast and tea."

His parting words were prophetic. After most of the toast, a few spoonfuls of cold broth and half the tea, the nausea passed and her stomach settled.

But the war inside her heart continued to rage, tempered now by the memory of his smile and the knowledge that, whatever genetic afflictions it might have, their child was likely to inherit it.

* * *

To Be Continued


	9. Lucky

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I am so very grateful for all of the support and kind words. They mean a great deal to me. I also want to thank jackiemack916 for sharing such a bittersweet memory. I'm so glad your story had a happy ending:)

Enjoy this chapter. Things are brewing and author's notes will follow.

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Pull me out of the aircrash_  
_Pull me out of the wake_  
_I'm your superhero_  
_We are standing on the edge_

_- Radiohead, "Lucky"_

* * *

In thirty-five years, Trip had broken more bones than he cared to count, from the femur he'd cracked falling out of an oak tree when he was five, all the way to the ulna fracture he'd sustained on Paxton's ship a year earlier.

He might not have been any sort of a medical expert, but the one thing he did know was that there wasn't much that could be done about a broken toe. It was pretty much ice, elevation and rest, until the bone healed itself.

Yet when his busted toe started turning a strange shade of purple, even a man who hated appearing weak as much as Trip had to admit that it was time to head to Sickbay.

Besides, he was overdue for a chat with the good doctor.

Phlox had his back to the door when Trip limped in; he appeared to be feeding one of his creatures, a ritual that seemed to occupy most of the doctor's time and energy in between medical crises. When he heard the door slide open, he glanced over his shoulder.

"Ah, Commander," Phlox greeted him. He frowned when he noticed Trip's gait. "Are you injured?"

"My toe." Trip reached the bio-bed and hoisted himself up onto it with a hiss of pain. "I'm pretty sure it's broken."

Armed with a tricorder, the doctor waited for Trip to pull off his shoe and sock, revealing the swollen digit. "When did this happen?" he asked.

Trip squirmed, like a kid who'd left his homework on the bus. "I dunno. Two...three days ago?"

"And you're just now having it looked at?"

"Been kinda busy, Doc."

Phlox glanced at his patient for a moment before clearing his throat. "Of course. Well..." He nodded, almost to himself. "Your self-diagnosis is correct. The bone is definitely broken."

"Great," Trip sighed.

"Frankly, I'm surprised you're walking at all. There must be considerable pain."

Trip shrugged. "It's nothing. So, I guess I'll be on crutches for the next couple of days? That's gonna make gettin' 'round Engineering real tough, but..."

Phlox cut him off. "Actually, I'm afraid we're past crutches. The bone needs to be reset and splinted. You should stay completely off of it for at least the next three days."

"Bedrest?" Trip stared at him. "For a dang toe?"

"I admire your stoic nature, Commander, but the next time you break a bone, your first stop should be Sickbay," Phlox gently scolded him. "Before the affected area starts turning colors."

Trip shook his head back and forth in defeat. "Fine. Can we just get this over with?"

It took one incredibly skilled yank to reset the bone, which Trip barely felt thanks to the hypospray he'd been given. Once it was in place, Phlox set about binding the injured toe to its nearest neighbors, anchoring it into place while it healed.

Trip had no idea exactly what the doctor had shot into his neck, but he was fairly certain that some kind of muscle relaxer had been mixed into the pain suppressant. Leaning back on his elbows as Phlox worked on his foot, he felt loopy. Loopy and loose-tongued.

Never a good combination.

"So. Doc." Trip looked down at the Denobulan. "Seems like we need to talk about some real big stuff."

Phlox paused just long enough to meet Trip's slightly unfocused eyes. "I won't pretend not to know what you mean, but I have to remind you that I'm somewhat limited in what I can discuss with you. Certain medical information is...confidential."

"It's my baby, too!" It was fortunate that Sickbay was empty; Trip's voice carried into every corner. "Why doesn't anyone else get that?" He thumped his hand against his chest. "I'm the father; I get a damn say in all this!"

"No one is denying that," Phlox assured him. "Relax, Commander," he said when his patient suddenly tried to sit all the way up. "We can talk just as soon as I finish this."

Somewhat mollified, Trip flopped down onto his back and stared up at the bright lights overhead. "You've got kids, right?" he asked a minute later.

"Five of them."

The chief engineer hesitated. "For the first one, were you...you know...?"

"Frightened?" Putting the final touches on the temporary splint, Phlox stood up. "More like terrified," he admitted. "I had just finished a course on pediatrics; I knew everything that could go wrong during a pregnancy and for some reason, I couldn't keep from sharing it all with my wife." He smiled. "I remember being thrown out of our bedroom on a number of occasions."

"But nothing did go wrong, did it?"

It took a moment for Phlox to reply. "We were very lucky."

There was still no pain in his foot, but Trip could feel his toe throbbing in time to the heavy beat of his heart. "Be honest with me, Doc." He blinked several times. "What are the odds that we'll be lucky, too?"

"I can't give you numbers." Trip sat up to see him better. The seriousness of the man's expression made his stomach flip. "There's never been a pregnancy like this before," Phlox reminded him. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you asked for honesty and this is it. Until the child develops enough for me to run a complete genetic scan, I simply don't know."

"A year ago, you stood right over there," Trip pointed across the room, "and you told me that there wasn't any reason why Human and Vulcan DNA couldn't combine."

"I meant under the proper circumstances, with the right gene therapy." Phlox shook his head. "To be honest, until I examined T'Pol and saw the fetus for myself, I was fairly convinced that the Vulcan reproductive system wouldn't even allow for natural conception by non-Vulcan..."

"Please don't say it," Trip begged.

"...spermatazoa," the doctor finished. "It's hardly a dirty word."

Trip dragged his hand through his hair and down the side of his jaw. "Why do I feel like I'm back in sixth grade sex-ed class?" A thought suddenly struck him. "Sixth grade...we took a trip to the Lowry Park Zoo." He paused as the memory came flooding back. "They had ligers!"

Phlox frowned. "I'm not familiar with that species."

"A liger," Trip repeated. "It's the offspring of a male lion and a female tiger. Two different species...with just enough in common to breed!" He spread his hands in triumph. "Maybe we're all makin' a fuss over nothin', 'cause if two big cats can get it on and have kids..."

The doctor cut him off. "There are many examples of interspecies breeding, but traditionally the products of these unions are, themselves, sterile." He hesitated. "Or worse."

But Trip was undaunted. "No, see, I remember them tellin' us that everyone thought the ligers were sterile...'til they started poppin' out babies." Off Phlox's look, he explained, "I was twelve. Anythin' to do with sex pretty much stuck with me for life."

Phlox had to smile. "I understand why you need to hope for the best, but can you understand why T'Pol might not be able to do that? She isn't Human."

"I'm aware," Trip snapped, some of the wind having deflated from his sails.

"Asking her to focus on the joy of the situation isn't any more reasonable than asking you to focus on the logical concerns."

Trip ran his tongue around his teeth as he shook his head. "I just feel like I'm fightin' a losin' battle. It's like she's already decided that our kid doesn't stand a chance...and she's just waitin' for the other shoe to drop." He stared at a place just beyond the doctor's shoulder. "Maybe it will. And if it does...god, it'll hurt like hell, Doc."

"I know." Trip looked at Phlox as he clarified, "Second wife, first pregnancy." He lowered his eyes. "I wasn't always lucky."

"I'm sorry."

Phlox lifted his chin. "Children are a blessing, Commander. And the paternal instinct, be it Human, Denobulan or even Vulcan, is very strong."

Trip nodded for a second. "This might be one of those things you can't share with me, but when you told her...when she found out about the baby...did she seem happy? At all?" When it became clear that the doctor either had no answer, or didn't have an answer he was willing to share, Trip snorted softly. "Got it." Putting all of his weight on his arms, he started to slide off the bed onto his good foot. "I don't suppose I could talk you down to just one day of..."

Again, Phlox cut him off. "Three days, Commander. No more, but no less. I'll inform the captain." He left Trip standing there in order to retrieve a set of metal crutches from the supply room. "You know how to use these?"

"I'll make it back to my quarters, don't worry."

The doctor slipped a hypospray in the zippered pocket on the front of his uniform. "Take this as needed. There's only two doses left. If you require more than that, just let me know."

Trip stuck the crutches under his arms and grasped the handles. "Thanks, Doc. For everything."

"Commander." Phlox stopped him at the door. Swinging back around, Trip waited for him to go on. "If it helps, when she found out you're the father, she wasn't at all surprised. In fact...I'd go so far as to say she seemed almost relieved."

"Well." Trip tried to grin. "That's somethin', I guess."

* * *

Having been summoned to the captain's ready room, T'Pol let herself in upon his command. Archer was seated at his desk, examining a PADD. He glanced up at her entrance.

"Commander. Please...have a seat." There was a hitch in his voice that she hoped was just her imagination. "I just spoke to Phlox."

T'Pol froze as she lowered herself into the chair across from the desk.

"Apparently, sometime in the past few days, Trip went and broke one of his toes." She could feel the captain watching her carefully, as if searching for any reaction in her expression. And while this was news to her, especially considering that Trip hadn't seemed to be in any pain while he was tending to her that very morning, T'Pol didn't so much as raise an eyebrow. "Under the doctor's orders, he'll be staying off his feet for the next three days," Archer continued. "I'll be assigning Kelby to watch over Engineering. Unless you have any other suggestions."

"The Engineering duty roster is hardly under my purview, Captain." She crossed one leg over the other as calmly as possible. "Perhaps you should ask Commander Tucker himself."

"Perhaps I should," he agreed.

A moment passed. "Was that all you needed to tell me?" T'Pol finally asked.

"Not quite." Archer stood up, only to reposition himself on the edge of his desk. It was a move she recognized after five years; the captain was about to say something she wasn't going to like hearing. "How are you doing these days?"

Trip had told him. It was painfully obvious. T'Pol gripped the wide arms of the chair as she struggled with a flash of white-hot irritation. Did Trip intend to inform the entire crew about the existence of their child or just the senior officers? How could he have shared something so private before they had even decided how to deal with the situation?

Still, there was no sense in lying or trying to distract the captain. When she knew she had full control over the quality of her voice, T'Pol looked him straight in the eye. "I've been experiencing bouts of intense nausea and dizziness, but Dr. Phlox assures me that's very common in the early stages of pregnancy, especially considering that the child I'm carrying is half Human."

It would have been strangely gratifying if she'd been able to capture an image of the look on Jonathan Archer's face. He coughed once, then twice. "T'Pol...I didn't mean to..."

"You've already been included in this matter. Haven't you?" Reluctantly, he nodded. "Since the doctor would never break patient confidentiality, there's only one other source from which this information could have come."

Archer tried clearing his throat again. "Don't be too angry with Trip. He's an expectant father; where we come from, that's something we share with our friends."

"The implication being that Vulcans don't anticipate the birth of a child?"

Apparently sensing that he was treading in dangerous water, the captain held up his hands in surrender. "I have no doubt that you do. But I just can't see a Vulcan father handing out cigars."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Doesn't matter," Archer said. "And it's not really my point, anyway."

"What is your point, Captain?"

"I just wanted you to know that if you needed me to reduce your duty schedule, or even if you wanted to take some time off entirely, I'll do whatever I can to accomodate your...condition." Archer's smile was weak, but sincere. "Congratulations, by the way."

T'Pol refused to blink. "That might be a premature sentiment."

A shadow crossed the man's face. "I choose to believe that it won't be." Another, awkward pause followed. "You're in good hands with Phlox. And Trip...he'll be a great father. Whatever doubts you have, you must know that." The captain shifted his stance. "I really am...happy. For both of you."

"Are you?" To this, T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "If this child can be carried to term, it's highly doubtful that Starfleet will allow it to be raised on board, which would force me to either take a leave of absence or resign my commission. And as you've implied, Commander Tucker has already formed an attachment to the child; he would likely leave _Enterprise_, as well, in order to remain with it." She stared at the captain. "This pregnancy could take away your science officer and your chief of engineering. Hardly something you should want to celebrate."

"It won't be easy," Archer admitted. "But life...at least, Human life...it's always changing, T'Pol. Hands get dealt to us and we have to play them, even if they're not the cards we would have picked."

"I'll try to remember that."

Archer stood up. "At the risk of getting too personal..."

"Bridge to Captain Archer."

T'Pol had never been more grateful to hear Hoshi's voice.

The captain reached for the comm panel. "Go ahead."

"There's a subspace transmission coming in from Starfleet Headquarters." She paused. "It's Priority One, sir."

Glancing at T'Pol, Archer frowned. "Put it through to my ready room, Hoshi."

"Should I go?" T'Pol asked.

The captain shook his head. "Whatever it is, you'll know about it soon enough, I'm sure."

Admiral Daniel Leonard appeared on the screen with an expression so grave that even T'Pol felt a momentary twinge of anxiety. "Captain Archer, I wish I had better news to convey, but two days ago, Captain Dunsel and the crew of the NX-03 _Challenger_..." He drew in a deep breath. "...were killed in action."

Archer sank down into his chair.

"From what we've gathered so far, the _Challenger _came under fire from a rogue ship that was heading for Andoria. We can only assume what that vessel's mission was, but it couldn't have been a peaceful one. Our investigators have determined that Roy Dunsel activated his ship's self-destruct program, and in doing so, destroyed the rogue ship, as well. "

Leonard leaned forward, as if confiding in the _Enterprise's_ captain. "The Andorians are up in arms about this, and rightfully so. It shouldn't come as any surprise to you, but our mutual enemy out there...they're getting a little too close for Starfleet's comfort. Losing a ship...a whole crew..." He had to stop for a second. "When we manage to recover any data from the _Challenger_, you'll be the first to know about it. In the meantime, stay alert. Report any unusual encounters or occurrances immediately. If this wasn't an isolated incident, we might very well be heading towards something much bigger and it goes without saying that the _Enterprise_ will be our flagship." Leonard paused. "Watch your back, Jon."

The transmission ended abruptly, leaving Archer visibly stunned and shaken. T'Pol had just decided to put a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped would be a gesture of comfort when he finally spoke.

"I can't believe this." He covered his mouth for a second, as if he might be sick. "They were less than a year out of spacedock."

"Did you know Captain Dunsel?"

"Enough to know that whoever attacked his ship left him with no other choice." Archer glanced at her; his eyes were red. Anguished. "Do you think it could have been the Romulans?"

"Based on the limited information we've been given, it's impossible to make that determination," T'Pol said. "But clearly this unknown attacker poses a threat and should be identified as soon as possible. Starfleet only has three NX class ships left."

After a moment, Archer stood and reached for the comm panel. Locking eyes with T'Pol, he took a deep breath. "All hands, this is the captain. I've just received some...upsetting news."

* * *

Trip barely heard the chime on his door and it took him several seconds to answer it with a mumbled, "Come in."

It was a good thing he'd taken another hit off the doctor's hypospray not too much longer after the captain had made his announcement. There was only so much physical and emotional pain that a man could be expected to endure. Adding a frustrating Vulcan woman who didn't want to be pregnant with his child into the mix might have just pushed Trip over the edge.

T'Pol entered his quarters like she was making first contact with an unknown species. He had a pretty good idea of how pathetic he must have looked with his bare foot wrapped up and propped up on a stack of pillows, but it just didn't seem to matter right then.

He'd seen her at her worst that very morning; if she couldn't take him at his worst, there wasn't much left to be said between them.

"How are you feeling?" She spoke softly, but with an undercurrent of feeling that struck him square in the chest. Trip closed his eyes for a second, allowing an unshed tear to escape down his cheek. This must have worried her because the next thing he knew, she took a step closer to his bunk. "Trip?"

Glancing down at the PADD in his hand, he let out a pent-up breath. "When I was workin' on the NX project, I did some tutoring in physics to make some extra money. I had this one kid...Benny Wilson. Not really a kid; he wasn't more than three years younger than me. Smart as hell, but he had this...condition. Dyslexia. Made learnin' all those equations real tough for him. Never slowed him down, though. Got through every test with flyin' colors."

"I'm sure you were an excellent tutor."

Trip never took his eyes off the small screen in front of him. "I hadn't heard from Benny in years...'til I got a letter 'bout six months ago." He finally looked up at T'Pol. "He wanted to tell me he'd been promoted to Chief Engineer...and assigned to the _Challenger_."

Before she could say or do anything, if she was even planning to say or do anything, Trip threw the PADD towards the far corner of the room; it hit the wall and landed on the floor with a satisfying amount of noise. He wasn't sure if he'd wanted to provoke her into a reaction, but if he had, he would have been disappointed. T'Pol merely looked down at him without a hint of trepidation or judgement.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your friend," she told him.

Was she? The same woman who was considering aborting their child felt sorry for the death of a man she'd never met? He wanted to argue this point, if only to get out everything he was feeling by yelling at someone who wouldn't fight back, but something stopped him. Even if she hadn't been carrying his baby, T'Pol didn't deserve to be his emotional punching bag.

"Seems like it never ends." Trip shook his head against the stack of pillows that were keeping him propped up. "People dyin'...war bearin' down on us..." He left the pregnancy unspoken, but from the look in her eyes, she knew it was on his mind. "I feel like I'm bein' tested, to see how much I can take before I crack."

"Captain Archer seems to think that the events in our life are cards that we're dealt," she told him. "Do you believe that?"

Trip lifted his shoulder. "A couple of bad hands dealt my way makes more sense than thinkin' the universe is out to get me." He sought out her gaze. "What do you think?"

Was she aware that her hand lowered to her belly? Trip had no idea, but the sight of her elegant fingers covering the place where their child was growing was a better pain-killer than anything Phlox had in Sickbay.

"Vulcans believe in cause and effect," T'Pol replied, rotely. "It's only..."

"Logical, yeah." Trip sat up a bit more. "But I asked what you think. Not the High Command."

She looked back and forth between his eyes and he could almost see her struggling with what she'd been taught versus what she felt after five years of living amongst Humans.

To spare her, Trip reached out, laying his hand against hers against their baby. "It's okay," he mumured. "Sometimes there is no answer."

T'Pol looked down at their hands, then back at him. "I didn't know you were in pain this morning," she confessed without warning.

"I wasn't," he assured her. "Not much, anyway." Trip smiled. "I'm real good at forgettin' stuff that's not important."

"Your pain isn't unimportant." She paused. "Not to me, at least."

A few seconds passed in heavy silence. "T'Pol...if I asked you to stay the night with me..." Trip changed his mind. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't..."

"I couldn't feel your pain," T'Pol cut him off. He frowned until she continued, "We're bonded, Trip. Your pain should be my pain."

"I thought you didn't want that bond anymore."

"It was a card I was dealt." She leaned over him, surrounding him with the scent of some exotic flower that he'd never been able to identify, but acted on his body like the strongest aphrodisiac. "Do you still want me to stay?"

"Darlin'..." Trip eased his hand into the short, silky hair at the back of her neck and drew her mouth to his. "I never wanted you to go."

* * *

To Be Continued

A/N: In developing this story, I quickly realized that I couldn't ignore the Romulan War, even though there's very little information available about it. Now, I've never really considered the novels true canon, but while doing my research, I came across the wiki page for the NX-03 _Challenger_, and while the timing might be off by a month or two, it fit well enough for me to include it here. Its captain and its fate, as mentioned above, come directly from the Enterprise novels, _Kobayashi Maru _and _Beneath the Raptor's Wing_. No copyright infringement is intended.


	10. Never Knew I Needed

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Care for a bit of fluff? Y'all deserve it, after putting up with so much angst. Thank you for reading/reviewing;)

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_For the way you're something that I'd never choose_

_But at the same time, something I don't want to lose_

_And never want to be without ever again_

_You're the best thing I never knew I needed_

_- Ne-Yo, "Never Knew I Needed"_

* * *

Hours had passed, yet Trip was no closer to sleep. A good session of neuropressure might have done the trick, but he had absolutely no intention of waking T'Pol just so that he could get a little rest.

Only the worst kind of jackass would deprive a woman of sleep when she was eighteen weeks pregnant.

Four and half months. Even now, when T'Pol was asleep in his bunk, spooned against his chest, and he could reach out and touch the roundness of her belly that all but disappeared when she wasn't lying on her side, he still had trouble believing he wasn't just caught up in some incredibly realistic dream.

He might never know exactly what had flipped the switch in T'Pol's heart and had made her reconsider not only him, but their baby itself, but the past ten weeks had been the happiest Trip could remember experiencing in a very long time. Being with T'Pol, even under a veil of necessary discretion, was everything he'd known it would be since the first time he'd realized that she was more than just another colleague to him.

And he wasn't even thinking about the sex, although he did feel like the luckiest guy in the damn universe in that regard; maybe it was pregnancy horomones or two years of abstinence or a combination of both, but he had never felt so needed or so needy before.

No, the sex was incredible, fantastic, amazing, but this was so much more than physical. It was more the sense of coming home that he felt whenever he entered T'Pol's quarters or beckoned her into his at the end of a long day. It was the feeling that a piece of his own heart was right back where it should be.

It was what their relationship should have been all along, if not for Koss, if not for the Forge, if not for Terra Prime.

But with the love came the fear. The baby that was slowly making its presence known...Trip had not doubted from day one that it would grow and thrive...but he wasn't a fool either. Despite all of his optimism and every Human instinct that screamed at him to hope for the best no matter what, he knew that something could go wrong, horribly wrong. Every day that passed was both a miracle and a curse because as his love for their child grew, so did the possibility that if the worst case scenario happened, he would lose another piece of his heart just as it had started to come together again.

Not to mention T'Pol. No one liked to talk about it, but the loss of the _Challenger_ still weighed heavily on the crew, not to mention the senior officers. And even though the unknown enemy had laid low since then, no doubt recovering from their own unexpected loss, Trip knew enough about wounded animals to know that they were twice as dangerous. The next attack could come at any time, in a million different ways and no one was safe, not even the woman sleeping next to him.

As if sensing his thoughts, something he took as a hopeful sign that the bond they'd never asked for, but had both missed, was strengthening again, T'Pol stirred in his arms. "Trip?"

"Shh." He nuzzled the nape of her neck, just at the place where she'd been forever marked by an Orion pain inducer. Touching his lips to the tiny set of scars, Trip murmured, "Go back to sleep, darlin'."

But apparently, she was awake enough to employ logic. "You aren't sleeping."

"Too much on my mind."

Before he could stop her, T'Pol pressed the button that controlled the reading light in the shelf above his bunk. He winced against the sudden brightness as she turned onto her other side to face him. "Phlox said it would be four or five days until the genetic profile is complete," she reminded him. "Do you plan to stay awake until then?"

"Think it would help?"

She looked him with those sable-brown eyes that saw so much, yet revealed nothing to the people who didn't know her. "The child's genes have already been determined. Little can be done to change them now."

Trip snorted softly. "Where's that Soong bastard when you need him?" Sighing, he rubbed her arm in a gesture of apology. "Everything's gonna be fine. Our baby's gonna be perfect."

Still, T'Pol watched him; he could feel it, even after he closed his eyes. "Perfection is an impossible standard," she said after a moment.

He cracked one eye open. "It's just an expression." When he caught sight of her furrowed brow, he sat up on his elbow. "T'Pol, no matter what Phlox says four or five days from now, I'm gonna love this kid of ours 'til the day I die. Maybe even after. Got that?"

Her dark lashes lowered as she looked down at her thickening belly. "I thought I felt it move last night after dinner."

"How come you didn't say somethin'?"

"I quickly determined that what I felt was merely a product of digestion."

A grin crawled across Trip's face. "Someday, I'm gonna get you to say 'gas'."

T'Pol's chin lifted in defiance. "That is highly unlikely."

It thrilled him to be able to kiss her, to say nothing of the heat that flooded his body when she kissed him back with equal passion. He wasn't wearing a shirt, so her hands immediately dropped to the drawstring of his sweatpants.

Even as he fumbled with the buttons on her silk top, Trip couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Whoever still thought that the Vulcans were an emotionless people had clearly never been in bed with one.

* * *

"Five minutes."

Travis glanced up from his scrambled eggs. "What?"

Spearing a piece of strawberry, Hoshi pointed at the entrance to the mess hall with her fork. "I predict that exactly five minutes from now, Commander Tucker will walk through that door."

"Exactly?" She nodded and Travis laughed. "I almost think we should put some money on this."

"If you insist. But I'm telling you. Five minutes." Off his look, Hoshi explained, "T'Pol just came in, didn't she?"

Travis lifted his shoulder. "I guess so. I didn't notice."

"Every time T'Pol shows up for breakfast with the captain, Trip follows exactly five minutes later. You can clock it, I swear. It's always five minutes."

"Since when did you start paying so much attention to Commander Tucker?"

Hoshi shook her head. "It's nothing like that." She paused. "Are you telling me you haven't noticed before now? This has been going on for weeks."

"What has?"

"Oh my god. Why are men so blind?" Travis frowned. "Never mind," she sighed. "Just...eat your eggs."

But now she'd caught his interest. "Are you saying that they purposely arrive at two different times?" he asked.

Hoshi stabbed a melon ball. "Now you're catching on."

His frown deepened. "What's the point of doing that unless..." His eyes grew wide with realization. "The two of them?" Hoshi nodded. "For real?"

"Finally." She smiled at her fruit salad. "They deserve a little happiness."

"You figured all of this out because they come to breakfast five minutes apart?"

Hoshi shifted in her seat. "Well...that...and I might have seen them holding hands during the _Challenger's_ memorial service."

"You have been watching him," Travis teased. "Or is it her?"

"Get out of the gutter, Travis." Her scowl faded a few seconds later. "Look, what can I say? I'm a sucker for a shipboard romance."

Shaking his head in amusement, the helmsman returned his attention to his breakfast. But only a couple of minutes later, the mess hall door slid open and the Chief Engineer entered. There was an unmistakable smile on his face as he crossed to the captain's mess.

"What did I tell you?" Hoshi said with no small amount of triumph. "Five minutes." She held out her hand. "Pay up."

* * *

To say that the captain was surprised by her breakfast choice would have been an understatement. When T'Pol asked the steward for French toast and a dish of black olives, Archer nearly choked on his bacon.

Trip, on the other hand, just sipped his coffee. As a man who had been sent to the galley at two a.m. for a block of blue cheese, nothing fazed him anymore.

"Has Starfleet finished analzying the data from the _Challenger_?"

The seriousness of T'Pol's question was somewhat undermined by the fact that she was dipping her olives into a pool of maple syrup, but Archer answered as best he could. "Only about ten percent of the sensor recordings have been recovered from the black box. They're still trying to piece together the timeline."

"Nothin' on who attacked them?" Trip asked.

"It was a powerful ship," the captain said. "A lot of the wreckage shows signs of phaser blasts, damage that happened before the...explosion."

T'Pol sensed his hesitation to clarify exactly how the destruction of the NX-03 had come about; Trip had also struggled with the knowledge that a Starfleet captain could have faced a situation so hopeless that activating the self-destruct function was the only option. In fact, on more than one occasion, he had made it clear that he was glad there was no such feature on the NX-01.

"Perhaps it was simply an unfortunate encounter with a rogue element," T'Pol said. "The Orions or maybe the Nausicaans."

The men exchanged a look before Trip offered her a smile. "Could've been," he agreed with a touch too much indulgence for her liking.

T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "If you don't agree with my assessment, I would appreciate you telling me so."

"It's not like that," Archer assured her. "But the Orions and the Nausicaans know better than to go anywhere near Andoria."

"Whoever did this," Trip shook his head, "they weren't afraid of the Imperial Guard."

Not so long ago, it had been her job to pass along information on alien cultures and interactions. Truth be told, T'Pol had naively assumed it would always be that way. And while it was certainly commendable that after only five years, the Humans had already developed a knack for interstellar diplomacy, it was still annoying to be schooled in politics by men who ate meat with their hands.

As she cut into a slice of French toast with extreme precision, she felt Trip nudge her foot with his under the table. She waited until she had taken a bite, chewed and swallowed before she granted him eye contact.

He tilted his head to the right.

T'Pol took a sip of tea.

Trip cleared his throat.

She sat up straighter.

Archer looked back and forth between them. "A captain's not supposed to feel like a third wheel at his own table."

If she hadn't known better, T'Pol could have sworn she felt a sudden swell of jealousy from the man. Her rekindled relationship with Trip was the proverbial elephant in the room whenever they dined with him; it certainly didn't help that, even now, she sensed something more than friendship whenever Archer looked at her.

But her choice had been made a long time ago, longer, perhaps, than anyone would ever know. Perhaps as far back as the medicinal scent of decon gel and the feeling of calloused fingers against the sensitive point of her ear.

Jonathan Archer was her commanding officer and her friend, but Charles Tucker the Third was her mate.

"We're tryin' to be discreet." Trip scratched at his flushed cheek, like he could rub away the evidence of his own embarrassment. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

"Unless something has happened that I don't know about...and please believe that I hope it hasn't...in another month or two, everything will be out in the open." Archer turned to T'Pol. "Have you considered switching to a Starfleet uniform?"

"Yes," she said coolly. "I've already spoken to the quartermaster."

"Even that'll be temporary. They're not really built to hide much, either."

Trip frowned. "She knows all of this. Why are you...?"

"If you think I'm being intrusive, Trip, just wait until the inevitable press leak."

T'Pol didn't need a bond to tell her that Trip was getting angry; it was clear from his tone. "I thought you were on our side."

The captain sighed. "I am. But a lot of people won't be. It's only been a year since Terra Prime; Paxton hasn't even gone on trial yet. And now we've lost an entire crew and a starship to another unknown alien threat." He hesitated, like he hated the very words that were about to come out of his mouth. "We already know that it doesn't take much to start a fire. I don't want to see this pregnancy add fuel to a dying flame."

No longer hungry, T'Pol pushed her plate away. "If you'll excuse me, I'm not feeling well."

Trip stood up just a second after she did. "I get what you're tryin' to say, Capt'n. Least...I think I do." He followed T'Pol to the door where he added, "There's just gotta be a better way of sayin' it."

* * *

T'Pol ignored the looks from the crew as she strode through the mess hall with Trip on her heels. Hoshi, in particular, seemed very interested in their sudden departure, but she refused to slow down until they reached the turbolift.

Once inside, Trip didn't wait to be asked. He just put his arms around her and drew her close. "I don't know what got into him back there," he said into her hair. "Maybe it's stress."

"It's not stress," she murmured. Before he could ask her to clarify this, T'Pol felt it. Like someone was blowing bubbles beneath her skin, the baby moved within her.

The look on her face must have reflected shock, rather than unexpected relief and previously unimagined joy, because Trip immediately grasped her shoulders tighter. "What is it? What's wrong?" He looked down at her stomach. "The baby...?"

"It moved." The lift doors opened, but they stayed frozen in place. T'Pol looked up at him. "I felt it move, Trip."

If they had been alone, where no one could happen upon them, he might have lifted her off the ground. There was so much emotion in his eyes, but somehow he managed to restrain himself. "Are you sure it's not just..."

"It isn't gas."

His facade of calm cracked and he threw back his head in laughter. "I was right!" he crowed. Trip reached out and hit the control panel. The doors shut and he immediately wrapped her up in his arms again. "I love bein' right." He drew back just enough to cup her face in his hands. "I love you."

Although she wanted to say it right back, all T'Pol could do was close her eyes and accept his kiss.

As her mate, it was enough for Trip.

* * *

To Be Continued

A/N: While watching "Divergence" the other day, my little brother asked why Trip didn't just tell Kelby how to reboot the warp reactor, instead of coming on board _Enterprise_ himself. I told him that, besides making for better TV, Trip has the magic touch, to which he immediately replied, "That's what T'Pol said."

I've never been prouder.


	11. Run

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I really, really appreciate everyone who's reading and reviewing as summer stretches on;) Enjoy the new chapter! I hope.

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Light up, light up_

_As if you have a choice_

_Even if you cannot hear my voice_

_I'll be right beside you, dear_

_- Snow Patrol, "Run"_

* * *

His arm felt like lead, but Phlox forced himself to lift it, in order to press the comm button. "Sickbay to Commander T'Pol."

It took longer than usual for a reply; the seconds ticked by like hours until her cool voice finally replied, "Go ahead, Doctor."

"Whenever it's convenient..." Phlox took a breath. "Could you and Commander Tucker meet me in Sickbay?"

Another few seconds dragged by, but when a response finally came, it was Trip's heavy voice that filled the room. "We'll be there in a minute."

While he waited, Phlox double-checked to make sure he had everything in order. T'Pol was a scientist; she would want to see the findings for herself. It was only logical to be organized and prepared for any questions they might have.

Not that it was going to make this conversation any easier.

True to Trip's word, only a few minutes later, the doors slid open. They entered together, the Human and the Vulcan, yet there was a careful distance between them. T'Pol's lovely face was blank, while Trip's mouth was tight, his eyes pained. It was what Phlox had expected. In fact, the only thing that surprised him was seeing T'Pol not in one of her colorful bodysuits, but in the dark blue jumper of a Starfleet officer.

"Commander Tucker, T'Pol." Phlox gave her a nod of approval. "You wear that uniform well."

Trip tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's what I told her."

"I don't believe we came here to discuss my attire." T'Pol looked straight at Phlox. "You've completed the profile?"

Phlox inclined his chin. "I have." He hesitated before crossing to the control panel at the door. With the press of a button, he locked the entrance, ensuring them complete privacy. Slowly, he turned back around, just in time to see Trip put his hand on the small of T'Pol's back.

"Doc?" Just that simple word spoken by a man he had come to consider a friend, almost a surrogate son, nearly undid Phlox's composure. He had been with Trip through an unexpected pregnancy, insomnia, a near-fatal head injury, the discovery and loss of his daughter and now...

"The first thing I want you to understand," Phlox began, "is that this profile only shows potential problems. As the baby develops in the womb, any physical...abnormalities will become evident, but mental disabilities...those might take years to officially diagnose."

Trip glanced at T'Pol, but upon finding her staring straight at the doctor, he looked back at Phlox. "So...did you find somethin' wrong or not?"

Reaching for a PADD, Phlox cleared his throat. "As you know, during conception a child receives chromosomes from both its father and its mother. 23 from each, for a total of 46. That's true of Humans and Vulcans."

"Okay, I'm a machine guy, but I passed basic biology," Trip reminded him.

"In a...normal conception, these chromosomal pairs contain DNA which, as you know, decides everything from hair color to..."

"Doctor."

He nodded at T'Pol not-so-subtle hint. "When I examined the chromosomes of your child, I found several...discrepancies."

"Discrepancies?" Trip repeated.

"It means that there's the potential for the baby to have several genetic disorders." Phlox offered T'Pol the PADD, but to his surprise she made no motion to take it from him. "But whether or not the child will develop them...we won't know until it happens."

Trip ran his hand through his hair. "I thought the whole point of this was for you to tell us if our baby's gonna be okay or not, but it sounds like you're still just sayin' you don't know!"

"What I'm saying is that there isn't any way to know for sure. In a Human to Human or a Vulcan to Vulcan conception, these imbalances would be positive proof of a problem. But in a Human-  
Vulcan hybrid...I can't say that for certain. Genetics are so very complicated, Commander."

"So is a warp reactor," he argued. "But I always know when somethin's wrong and I can always..."

T'Pol cut him off. "You mentioned physical abnormalities. What would they be?"

Phlox glanced down at his PADD. "Could be something as relatively simple as stunted growth...or something as complicated as ectrodactyly. A visual examination of the fetus will tell us more."

"And the other?"

"There is a much higher potential for mental problems." The words hurt, but he had to get them out. "Cognitive impairment. Possibly even intellectual disabilities."

"We knew all of this." Trip broke the silence that followed. "Didn't we know all of this already?" His accent thickened as his anger bubbled to the surface. "You're not tellin' us a damn thing we weren't aware of when we walked in here!" Breaking away, he stalked to the other side of the room, like he was about to explode and needed to stay away from them.

T'Pol had her hand against her lower belly, which Phlox couldn't help but notice was definitely rounder, perhaps even a bit thicker. "Would any physical deformities be noticeable now?"

"The biggest ones should be visible at this stage of development." Phlox glanced at Trip, but the man had his arms tightly folded across his chest and his eyes steadily focused on the floor. "If you'd like, I'll probably be able to tell you the child's sex, as well."

It was only when T'Pol looked to Trip that he finally lifted his head. Phlox watched their eyes meet. No words passed between them, but after a second, Trip's shoulders relaxed and he nodded. T'Pol turned back to Phlox expectantly.

"The imaging scanner will give us the best results," Phlox decided. "Don't worry; I won't display the images until you're back out here with us. It should be something you and Commander Tucker see together."

As T'Pol lay down on the bed, Trip walked back towards them. "It's okay," he told the mother of his child as she disappeared into the chamber. "I'm right..." The panel came down, sealing her inside. "...here." Trip put his hand against the machine, as if he might reach through it and touch the woman within.

"Commander?" Phlox said a moment later. But rather than step away, Trip just shook his head. "If there's anything you want to talk about, she can't hear us in there."

It took a minute, but eventually the engineer gave in. "Everythin' was goin' great. Better than great." Trip crossed his arms again. "But if we find out somethin's wrong..." Rather than finish the thought, he sniffed back his emotions. "Just tell me that these these imbalances aren't gonna be...you know...fatal. You gotta at least know that much."

"If the pregnancy hasn't ended by now, it's almost certain that it will be carried to full term."

"Almost isn't good enough, Doc." Trip looked back at the scanner. "You know, I caught her talkin' to her stomach the other day. She didn't notice me, so I just stood there and listened to her...not that I understood a word of what she was sayin'. Never was good with languages." He swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing. "I wanted to make her love this baby. Like a Human would. But maybe..." He lifted his shoulders helplessly. "Maybe I should've just let her be a Vulcan."

Through Sim, Phlox had watched Trip grow from an infant, to a boy, to a man, like a father would with a son. It was very hard not to go to him now, to comfort him when he was in such obvious torment. But Trip wasn't Sim, and so Phlox merely activated the scanner.

A few minutes later, the machine released T'Pol. As soon as the bed stopped moving, Trip was at her side, helping her to sit up. "You okay?" Phlox heard him murmur.

"I'm fine," she assured him. Phlox pretended not to see the brief touch of their fingers. "Doctor?"

He almost didn't want to look at the images that the scanner sent to his PADD. What if something was wrong with their child? He had delivered more than his fair share of bad news, but how could he ever tell two people who had already gone through so much that the product of their love was anything less than perfect?

But when he forced himself to examine the results, his dread quickly turned to relief.

"I'm very happy to report that I see no obvious physical deformities. The child has ten toes, ten fingers, two rather pointed ears and..." Phlox looked up at Trip and T'Pol with a broad smile. "It's most definitely a boy."

* * *

When Trip strolled into Engineering the next day, he had a picture of Charles Tucker the Fourth safely zipped up in the pocket of his uniform. The edges of the photo already seemed worn; long after T'Pol had fallen asleep, he'd laid awake and studied the printed image of his son, memorizing every detail.

Yes, his ears were Vulcan, but Trip wouldn't have had it any other way. He had tiny toes and a sweetly curved forehead...and as if that wasn't cute enough, his little boy was sucking his thumb.

More so even than when he'd first seen Elizabeth, Trip was head over heels for the baby he and T'Pol had made.

"Good morning, sir," an ensign greeted him as he climbed up the steps to the warp reactor.

He replied with a grin. "Yes, it is."

As usual, he spent the first few hours of his day going over routine repairs and checking the progress of the work he'd assigned the day before. He was about to dismiss the majority of his crew for lunch when he heard, "Archer to Engineering."

Since the unsettling conversation at breakfast a few days earlier, Trip had been coming up with reasons to avoid the captain, but it looked as if his grace period was over.

"Tucker here," Trip replied, trying not to sigh.

"Can you come to the bridge, Trip?" Archer asked. "Right away."

Lunch would have to wait. "On my way."

When he stepped onto the bridge a few minutes later, the first thing he noticed was the battered Vulcan ship on the main screen. He immediately looked at T'Pol, but she was peering into her viewer and seemed intent on whatever she was studying.

"What's goin' on?" Trip asked.

Archer looked back at him. "That's the _T'Vok_, a Vulcan combat cruiser. We picked up a distress signal a few hours ago and traced it back here. As you can see, they've been attacked."

"Their warp engines are offline," Malcolm reported. "Life support, as well."

T'Pol straightened up and turned her seat around. "That would explain the absence of bio signs."

There was a catch in her voice that made Trip want to be at her side, but he stayed where he was, waiting to find out why he'd been called to the bridge. There would be time to offer his condolences on the loss of her people later.

"Can we dock with them?" Archer asked.

Malcolm shook his head. "There's damage to their docking port and without main power, we won't be able to access their launch bay doors."

"We'll have to transport over." T'Pol stood up. "With your permission, Captain, I'd like to lead the away team."

"Hold on." Before his brain caught up with his mouth, Trip stepped down onto the main level. "I'll go over instead of T'Pol...see if I can get the ship up and runnin' again."

"The _T'Vok's_ systems are in Vulcan," T'Pol reminded him, suddenly stiff. "Have you learned to read it, Commander?"

"I just think we oughta be careful," Trip said, looking directly at Archer. "Who knows what we'll find over there. It makes sense to limit the away team, sir."

Archer seemed torn and for a long moment, Trip wasn't sure he'd made his point well enough. Didn't the captain realize that the transporter was no place for a pregnant woman, not to mention the emotional strain that T'Pol would face when she was surrounded by the bodies of her fellow Vulcans?

But apparently, Archer did get it. Either that or taking Trip's side was his way of apologizing for the breakfast conversation. Eventually, he nodded. "Trip, take Malcolm and Hoshi with you. T'Pol...I need you here."

He had a feeling he'd be sleeping in his own quarters that night and that he'd be alone, but Trip was prepared to deal with the consequences of his actions. An angry T'Pol was a thousand times better than an injured one.

"I'm sorry," Trip told her as he passed by her station on his way off the bridge.

Her back was straighter than a pine board and her voice was cool as ice. "I'll meet your team at the transporter, Commander."

He cursed himself all the way to the EVA storage room. It was only when he unzipped his uniform and felt the picture hidden there that Trip remembered his reasoning...and some of his guilt dissipated.

Malcolm was facing the bank of lockers, giving Trip a chance to remove the photo and look at it for a second.

"What's that?" Hoshi's voice startled Trip as she came around the corner, having changed into her own bulky bronze suit.

"Nothin'." Trip stuffed the picture under the collar of his black undershirt. "Just a lucky charm."

T'Pol was waiting for them at the transporter, but even if Malcolm and Hoshi hadn't been there, it would have been hard to give her so much as a hug with the EVA suit and helmet. Gripping his tool kit, Trip stepped onto the lighted pad and turned around to face her.

"Ready when you are, Commander," Trip said.

"I'm sending you to the main bridge; your first goal should be to restore life support." Her head lifted and their eyes met. "Be safe."

Out of the corner of his eye, Trip noticed Hoshi glance at Malcolm, but no more than a second later, the tingly feeling of dematerializing began.

* * *

By the time T'Pol returned to her station, the away team had safely rematerialized on the Vulcan ship and made contact with the bridge.

Perhaps it was just the feeling of relief that nothing had gone wrong during the transport that made her stomach twist, but when she heard Trip's voice over the comm system, she was almost certain that the baby moved.

"...dead, Capt'n." She only caught the tail end of his sentence as she walked out of the lift, but it was enough to slow her gait. "We've got five...no, six bodies on the bridge."

Archer was quiet for a moment. "Any idea what happened to them?"

"Two of them have severe burns and bodily trauma, but the other four took hits from some sort of particle weapon," Malcolm replied. "On first glance, I'd say the wounds look more like disruptor blasts, rather than phaser burns."

"Klingons?" Archer guessed.

"I can't say for certain without an autopsy," his armory officer said.

The captain glanced at T'Pol. "Would an autopsy be allowed?"

"Vulcans don't attach the same posthumous significance to their bodies that Humans do." She took her seat. "Their _katras_ have passed; what's left of them should be used to help investigate their deaths."

Archer nodded. "How long until you can restore power, Trip?"

"They took one hell of a beatin', sir. Might take awhile. And that's not even includin' the time it'll take to translate all this."

"I'll walk him through it, Captain," Hoshi assured him.

"Good. Keep the comm channel open and stay together," the captain ordered. "No one goes wandering off, got that?"

"Yes, sir," the away team said, more or less at the same time.

Archer walked to T'Pol's station. "Have you scanned the area for any other ships?"

"Twice," she informed him. "If there is anyone out there, our sensors can't pick them up."

"Cloaked?"

"They would have to be."

Archer rubbed his chin for a moment. "I don't like this, T'Pol."

Neither did she. And from the constant rolling of her stomach and the bubbly movements in her womb, neither did her baby.

* * *

Trip only had to connect one more port in order to bring the _T'Vok's_ computers back online, but he never got a chance. Upon hearing Hoshi scream, he struggled to get out from underneath the control station. When he sat up, the first thing he saw was the disruptor pointed straight at him.

The alien holding it was humanoid with sallow skin, slanted eyebrows and a V-shaped ridge on his forehead. He displayed no signs of distress; in fact, he was eerily calm as he said something in his own language.

"Hoshi?"

"I think he said," her voice trembled, "to drop your weapon."

A flux coupler was hardly a weapon, and wouldn't have been useful anyway, so Trip opened his hand and let it fall to the floor. "What did he say it in?"

Behind the heavy glass of her helmet, Hoshi's face was pale. "Pretty sure it's Romulan."

What happened next happened so fast that Trip could barely keep the events straight in his head. Malcolm, being the sort of man who would never surrender without a fight, charged straight at the Romulan holding him at bay. His shoulder slammed into the alien and they landed on the floor.

Determined to take advantage of Malcolm's diversion, Trip grabbed the phase pistol at his hip. But with the EVA suit's gloves, he couldn't get a good grip on the weapon. A second later, it was kicked out of his hand. Another foot caught him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him.

When he'd recovered enough to stagger to his feet, Trip saw Malcolm lying face down on the floor and heard the hiss of oxygen as it streamed out of the man's suit. The bastards had punctured the hose on his air pack. Depending on the size of the hole, Malcolm had minutes at most.

"Malcolm!" Hoshi screamed, struggling against the two Romulans holding her at bay.

Trip tried to get to their fallen friend, but for the second time that day, he felt himself start to dematerialize. When he reappeared, it wasn't on the familiar pad of the _Enterprise. _

* * *

The Romulan ship decloaked without warning, about two hundred kilometers off the bow of the _T'Vok_.

Suddenly, it was like T'Pol was living in slow motion. She could hear the captain ordering the tactical alert, yelling for the hull plating to be polarized...she buckled with the impact of the first hit, felt the hot spray of sparks from the fried control panel behind her when the second blast shook the ship, but what actually happened in the space of a few minutes, felt like it stretched out for hours.

Piercing through everything else, she heard Hoshi's scream through the comm. Trip's voice. The sounds of a struggle.

Helpless to do anything, T'Pol waited for him speak again, wanting to hold back her very breath until she heard that familiar drawl, but after Hoshi cried out Malcolm's name...there was nothing.

"They've gone to warp!" Travis announced, even though they could all see the Romulan ship take off across the stars.

Shell-shocked, Archer asked, "The away team?" A second passed. "T'Pol?" he demanded.

She couldn't focus on her sensors; everything was blurring together as her emotions fought to be released from their restraints. Her chest rose and fell, rapidly, heavily. The baby had stopped moving.

"One bio-sign," T'Pol managed to report. "Human. Male."

"Get him back here," Archer ordered.

She stumbled on her way off the bridge. Once off the lift, she broke into a run and was nearly out of breath when she finally reached the transporter. Activating it, she isolated the faint bio-sign on the bridge of the _T'Vok_ and drew the controls down with unsteady fingers.

As soon as the crumpled figure had completely materialized, T'Pol was at the man's side, turning him over, yanking his helmet away...wishing with every fiber of her being that the fifty-fifty odds would be in her favor.

But luck wasn't on her side anymore. It wasn't Trip she'd brought back.

* * *

To Be Continued


	12. Keep Holding On

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for comin' back for more! I really appreciate the reviews; they help my fingers keep typing on the days when I might otherwise just veg out on the couch;)

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_When it gets cold_

_And it feels like the end_

_There's no place to go_

_You know I won't give in_

_- Avril Lavigne, "Keep Holding On"_

* * *

After letting himself in with the override code, Archer found his science officer in his chief engineer's quarters. Sitting on Trip's bed, T'Pol might have been meditating...if not for the haunted, forlorn look on her face and the blanket around her slender shoulders.

Had she been crying? He couldn't tell, but it wasn't completely out of the range of possibility. For some reason, the idea of that seemed even more shocking than the fact that she was pregnant with a half-Human child.

"T'Pol?" He took a few hesitant steps towards her, keeping safe distance between them. "T'Pol," he tried again. "It's been two days since..."

"Do you really think that I am not aware of that?"

Archer lowered himself into the chair at Trip's desk. "I know you haven't eaten. You probably haven't slept either." He paused. "Trip wouldn't want this. He'd want you to take care of yourself and the baby."

Something flared in her voice. Anger, he realized. No...rage, simmering just below the surface of her Vulcan composure. "Why are you speaking as if he's dead?" T'Pol pierced him with her eyes. "We're going to find him."

Archer held up hand. "Of course we are. We've got every Coalition vessel from the _Columbia_ to the slowest Tellarite freight hauler keeping their eyes and ears open out there. It's just a matter of time before we get a lead."

It was then that he noticed she wasn't merely shivering; she was literally shaking, as if she was so cold that she had no control over her body. He knew that Vulcans liked a warmer temperature than what was normal on a Human starship, but in five years, he'd never seen T'Pol like this.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." But the chattering of her teeth and the way she drew the blanket around her body even tighter said differently.

"You should see Phlox," he decided, reaching for the comm panel. "Archer to Sickbay."

"Please don't..."

T'Pol's protest came too late. A second later, they heard, "Phlox here."

There was something in the pained expression on his science officer's face that made Archer hesitate. "Never mind, Doctor," he finally said. "My mistake."

"Well, it was a fortuitous one, Captain," Phlox said. "I was about to contact you, myself. Lieutenant Reed is awake."

Before Archer thanked the doctor, T'Pol threw off the blanket and rose to her feet. All he could do was try to keep up with her as she raced out of the room.

Despite the large bandage wrapped around his head to cover the scalp laceration that they weren't yet certain how he'd received, Malcolm was trying his best to sit up when Archer and T'Pol entered Sickbay.

"I told you, Lieutenant," Phlox said in his best doctor voice, "You've been unconscious for almost 48 hours; you can't simply walk out of here and..."

"Captain!" Upon spotting Archer, Malcolm became even more insistent about getting up from the bio-bed. "Sir, I need to..."

"What you need to do is to rest, Malcolm," Archer ordered him. "We can still talk if you're lying down." After a moment, his armory officer gave in with a slight nod. "How are you feeling?"

Malcolm blinked at the ceiling. "Like I was beaten by a Romulan, sir." Archer might have smiled if the man hadn't closed his eyes and screwed up his face. "Hoshi and Trip?" he asked. Their silence seemed to be enough of an answer. Malcolm's fists balled up at his sides. "I should have protected them. I tried, but I wasn't fast enough to..."

"I have no doubt that you did everything in your power," Archer gently absolved him. "What happened over there?"

It took the man a minute to reassemble his jumbled memories. Finally, he opened his eyes. "Trip was working to restore main power with Hoshi translating for him. I was moving some of the bodies so we could access their workstations when Trip finished. All of a sudden...they were just there. We had no warning, sir."

"I know," Archer said. "Did they say anything?"

"Just to drop our weapons." Malcolm frowned. "Hoshi knew they were Romulan; she could understand them." He paused. "I managed to tackle one of them..." He reached up to touch his head. "I think that's how this happened." Lowering his hand, he went on, "I thought I had him, sir, but then I started losing oxygen." Another second passed. "I woke up here."

"That's all?" T'Pol's voice wavered dangerously. "You can't remember anything else?" She advanced towards the bio-bed. "What happened to Trip?" she demanded. "Was he injured? Did he..."

"T'Pol." Grasping her shoulders, Archer cut through her panic. "There's no evidence that Trip or Hoshi were hurt; no blood, no DNA. Just transporter signatures."

"They could have killed us straight away, but they didn't," Malcolm said. "They wanted us alive. Or at least some of us."

Archer nodded at the man before turning back to T'Pol. "I know this is difficult, but Malcolm's told us everything he knows. Now, he needs to rest."

"So should you," Phlox advised T'Pol. "And it wouldn't hurt you to eat something, too."

"I'd rather not make that an order," Archer told her.

He could feel T'Pol shivering just before she jerked away from him. For a minute, it seemed like she was going to argue back with all the energy she had left, but then her hand dropped to her belly and she looked away from them, as if turning the argument inward.

"If any information comes in..." she eventually started.

"You'll be the first to know," Archer assured her. "You said it yourself," he reminded T'Pol when she reached the door. "We're going to find them."

He never thought it possible of a Vulcan, but with her arms wrapped around herself for warmth, there was the only word he could come up with to describe T'Pol as she listlessly walked out of Sickbay.

Lost.

* * *

"A cold day in hell." Trip could see his breath as he let out a snort. "Whoever coined that phrase must've spent time in a Romulan brig."

Even through the thin wall of corrugated metal that separated them, Trip could hear Hoshi's teeth chattering. "I can't feel my fingers anymore."

"It's gonna be okay," he told her. He'd lost track of how many times he'd told her that since their alien abductors had thrown them behind bars, but he would keep repeating it as many times as it took to keep her spirits up. "_Enterprise_ will find us. They won't ever give up 'til they do." There was a long pause. "Hoshi? Hoshi, remember what we said?"

"Keep talking," she replied after a moment. "Keep moving."

"And?" Trip prompted.

She sighed. "Stay positive."

"You and me, Hoshi...we've been in a worse place than this before," he reminded her. "And we're not dyin' this time. We're just cold. And hungry." Trip balled up his hands so tight that his knuckles turned white. "It's gotta be against some intergalactic law to treat us like this!" he shouted at their captors.

"I don't think the Romulans have ever heard of Geneva, Commander."

"Trip," he reminded her. Blowing hot air into his fists, he swore sharply. "What the hell are they keepin' us here for? Just tryin' to see how long we can go without food or how cold we can take it?"

Hoshi's reply was soft. "Maybe." Her voice shook, but he wasn't sure if it was the temperature or the realization of why they might have been abducted. "We know so little about them. Maybe they know just as little about us. Like when the Xindi sent Raijin to study us...we might be..."

"Lab rats?"

"They could have taken Malcolm," she added. "But they didn't."

"One male and one female." Trip slumped down on the hard metal shelf that he assumed was meant to be a bed. "What are the odds of us gettin' outta here on our own?" he asked after a second.

Hoshi sniffed. "Even if we could find a way, where would we go, sir?"

"I dunno," he admitted. "Think they got escape pods?"

"Yes. Probably hooked up to sensor systems that will tell them when one is deployed."

Trip rubbed his suddenly aching forehead. "They're gonna come for us," he said, more for his benefit this time than for hers. "She'll find us."

"Commander T'Pol?" Hoshi guessed. "I'm sorry," she apologized a second later. "I know you said to keep talking, but..."

"It's okay." He chuckled. "Guess the cat's outta the bag."

"Not with everyone," she rushed to assure him. "I've just...picked up on a few things."

Trip tucked his hands under his armpits. "And here I thought we were bein' discreet."

"If I may, sir...you've seemed really happy the past few weeks. I don't think any of the crew would ever judge you for that. Either of you."

The Romulans had stripped off his EVA suits, leaving him in his black undershirts and pants, and while he'd been patted down for any communicators or hidden weapons, the alien who had searched Trip hadn't noticed the photo hidden in his shirt.

Reaching under his collar, Trip drew out the picture of his son. "Hey, Hoshi," he called to her after a moment. "Can I tell you somethin'?"

"Something good?"

"Yeah. Real good." Trip smiled. "I'm gonna be a dad."

Whatever Hoshi's reaction to this revelation was, he never knew. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he heard a door swing open on the other side of the partition.

Trip felt the thin wall buckle; Hoshi yelled something in Romulan. He sensed movement, a struggle, and then she cried out in English, "No! Let go of me!"

"Hoshi!" Trip scrambled to his feet; the photo in his hand fluttered to the floor. No more than a second later, the door on his side of the cell opened and a Romulan entered, weapon first.

"What the hell do you want?" he demanded. Another Romulan appeared behind the first, just as silent, but also armed. "Let Hoshi go! You can do whatever you want to me, just let her go!"

But either the Romulans didn't understand him, or more likely, they didn't care what he had to say because without a word, they seized Trip by his arms and dragged him out of the cell. Even as he fought against them, he could see Hoshi being forced to walk just ahead of him, down a long corridor that seemed to have no end.

What he didn't see was the third Romulan who entered the cell afterward and picked up the fallen photograph of his son.

By that time, he was already being strapped down to a bed in a dark chamber that smelled like antiseptic. A needle was jabbed into Trip's neck and everything blurred together until all he saw was black.

* * *

_Green. Every shade, all around her. Tangled vegetation, a canopy of trees and palm fronds and broken branches growing up, hanging over, allowing for only an occasional glimpse of the cloudless blue sky above._

_Below, gently rippling water, lapping against the sides of the boat in which she was seated. The air was hot and heavy and heavily perfumed with the scent of moss and flowering plants. _

_"I love this place." _

_The sound of his voice drew T'Pol's attention away from the scenery. Trip was seated at the other end of the boat, clad in one of his hideously colorful shirts. His eyes were closed and the dappled sunlight played across the serene expression on his face. _

_"Where are we?" T'Pol asked._

_"Crystal River. My father used to take me fishin' here." He opened his blue eyes. "I always wanted to do the same with my kids." _

_"Trip..." T'Pol wanted to reach for him, but she couldn't lift her arm. "This isn't real. We're not in Florida. I'm on _Enterprise_ and you..." Her throat closed up. "I don't know where you are."_

_He shook his head slowly. "If I knew myself, I'd tell you, darlin'." Trip tried to smile. "I wouldn't mind bein' rescued by a beautiful princess right about now." _

_"I'll find you," she whispered._

_Reaching across the boat, Trip took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I know." His forehead crumpled suddenly; he dropped her hand as his face screwed up beyond recognition._

_"Trip?" T'Pol watched him grab his head, holding it on either side. He doubled over in agony. "Trip!" _

_It was then that she felt the pain, a stabbing, piercing sensation that stretched from temple to temple. All she could hear was the sound of her voice crying out... _

* * *

A crewman passing by heard her screams and called for help. By the time Phlox and the security team burst into T'Pol's quarters, she was lying on the floor, awake, but trembling.

"Trip." When Phlox started to examine her, she grabbed his collar, nearly ripping the fabric. Her tone was too calm for the wide, wild look in her eyes. "They're hurting him."

* * *

To Be Continued


	13. Resistance

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Really, really, really appreciate all the kind words, as always:) They put such a big smile on my face. Thank you and enjoy:)

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Love is our resistance

They'll keep us apart and they won't stop breaking us down...

- Muse, "Resistance"

* * *

_Fried catfish, straight out of the pan and still sizzling around the edges. _

_The beach on St. George Island, just after dawn, empty for miles in either direction._

_T'Pol's warm fingers pressing into his skin, relaxing and at the same time, stimulating._

The pain was like nothing Trip had ever felt before. It felt as if someone had jabbed two forks into each of his temples and were happily twirling up his brains like spaghetti. He gritted his teeth as sweat ran down his cheeks to his neck, wetting the already-soaked collar of his shirt.

Positive. Hadn't that been one of the rules? Stay positive.

_Christmas at his parent's house, the scent of pine needles, cinnamon sticks and burning logs._

_The rhythmic hum of a warp reactor and the hypnotic cycle of its colorful lights. _

_Falling asleep on the soft pillow of T'Pol's breast, sated, sweaty, smiling._

He had become so used to the pain that when it suddenly stopped, Trip found it hard to breathe normally. Gasping, he tried to focus on his surroundings while he could, before the agony started again.

"I find myself impressed."

There was no face to attach to the voice, but at least the words were in English. Trip squinted, seeking out the speaker in the dark that lay beyond the blinding lights. "Who are you?"

"Humans are quite a resilient species. Sensitive to temperature, but not ruled by it. Water is more necessary to your survival than food. You even handle pain relatively well. At least, your males do. Your females...well..." The voice trailed off.

His body ached, but Trip strained against his bonds. "What do you mean?" he growled. "What did you bastards do to Hoshi?"

"And while you clearly have no problem expressing your emotions," the voice continued, "there is no one emotion that I can say defines Humanity. In that, at least, you are more interesting than the Klingons," his captor sneered.

"Listen..." Trip's chest rose and fell. "I don't know what the hell you want, but you've gone and kidnapped two Starfleet officers. Unless you've got a death wish...you better just let us go now."

The voice chuckled. "Spirit. In the face of a hopeless situation, even. I suppose that counts as a defining characteristic."

"When I get a chance," Trip swore, "I'll show you a definin' characteristic."

"I would think less of you if you didn't try."

How had he managed to forget the intensity of the pain in the few moments it had been gone? When it returned without warning, Trip couldn't hold back a strangled scream. Desperately, he fought to hold on to something, anything positive...whatever it took to keep from losing his mind to the torture.

_Having a beer with Jon at the 602 Club._

_His sister's brilliant smile. _

_The whisper of T'Pol's breath against his lips._

Down the hall, with her knees drawn to her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks, Hoshi could only listen to Trip's agony.

* * *

The mess hall at 0300 hours had become T'Pol's sanctuary. Not only was it usually empty and quiet, but unlike her quarters, it didn't hold any obvious reminders of Trip. She could sit down with a cup of mint tea and clear her mind, yet there was always the possibility that someone else could come in, which kept her from inadvertently slipping into a meditative state.

Meditation, once so necessary to her sense of control, was now dangerous. In the first few days of the nightmare that had become her reality, she had spent hours trying to re-establish contact with Trip, but instead of his conscious, all she could touch was his emotions. Agony. Fear. Loss. Eventually...it all became too much of a strain on her body and her mind.

As much as she wanted to reach Trip, to make sure he knew that he was not alone and she would never give up until he was safe, she no longer had her only own well-being to consider.

T'Pol felt a firm kick from within just as she took a sip of tea. In the five weeks since Trip and Hoshi had been abducted, the baby had grown to the point where even her Starfleet uniform couldn't hide the roundness of her stomach.

There was likely no one on _Enterprise _who hadn't figured out her condition, but to their credit, there had been no comments or offers of congratulations. It was as if the crew had collectively decided that until an announcement was made, the pregnancy would remain the worst-kept secret on the ship.

But would she ever be ready to make that announcement? Without Trip, it just didn't seem right. It was logical to assume that the crew also knew he was the child's father, which might have also contributed to their willingness to ignore the obvious. The absence of Trip and Hoshi could be felt all over the ship and the crew of the _Enterprise_ had a new mission: to find their missing members and bring them home.

Just as T'Pol decided to return to her quarters and attempt to sleep, the mess hall doors opened and Malcolm Reed entered.

Unshaven and bleary-eyed, he startled upon seeing T'Pol. "Commander."

"Lieutenant."

There was an awkward pause before he crossed to the beverage dispenser. "Tea," he ordered. "Hot. Sugar and cream." As he waited for his drink, T'Pol started to stand up, but stopped when Malcolm suddenly said, "Commander, wait! Please."

T'Pol lowered herself back into her seat and waited for him to carry his mug over to her table. Once there, he pointed to the chair across from her. She inclined her chin and he sat down.

Several seconds dragged by as Malcolm warmed his hands around his mug, but made no motion to drink. Finally, he looked up at her. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

Clearly, her sleep patterns weren't what was really on his mind, but rather than address the issue straight on, Humans insisted on making small talk in order to ease into difficult conversations. It was one of their more tedious attributes, but under different circumstances, she was willing to let it slide.

That night, however, she wasn't.

"Did you need something, Lieutenant?"

"You know," the armory officer tried to smile, "I've always admired Vulcan directness." Looking down into his tea, he blew out a breath. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been avoiding you for weeks."

She hadn't, but she said nothing, waiting for him to go on.

"Commander Tucker...Trip..." Malcolm swallowed heavily. "He's probably the closest mate I've ever had."

She blinked. "Mate?"

"Friend," he quickly explained. "He'd say 'buddy' or 'pal.' Whatever you want to call it..." He paused. "I let him down. Him and Hoshi." His fingers tightened around his mug. "It's my job to protect this ship and this crew...and I failed. The two people who matter the most to me and I couldn't..." His eyes glistened and for one horrifying second, she was certain he was about to cry. But he pulled himself together and finished with a simple, "I'm sorry."

"It's illogical to blame yourself for events that were beyond your control." He snorted softly at this. "Are you seeking some sort of absolution from me, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"I don't know." Malcolm's gaze slipped down to her swollen belly. "Perhaps."

T'Pol's hand covered the spot where she could feel the baby moving. "Because of my relationship with Commander Tucker?"

She wasn't sure why, with the proverbial elephant in the room addressed, the tension around Malcolm's eyes seemed to grow tighter. "It should have been me. I should have been the one they took. Not him. Certainly not her." Once again, his eyes drifted to her stomach. "I have so much less to lose."

Because in her darkest moments, she had thought the exact same thing, T'Pol glanced away for a long moment. "If Trip was here," she eventually said, "I imagine I would be having the same conversation with him about you."

"Probably." Malcolm chuckled sadly. "I suppose it's all that damn chivalry of his."

What was left of her tea was cold, but T'Pol took a final sip. "There's nothing that can be done or said now that will change what's happened. I don't hold you responsible and neither does Captain Archer." She rose to her feet. "Good night, Lieutenant."

"Commander." He jumped up. "If there's anything you need..."

"What I need is for everyone on this ship, yourself included, to stay rested and focused," T'Pol cut him off. "It's the only way we'll ever find what was taken from us." Something compelled her to add, "From both of us."

Instead of heading back to her own quarters, T'Pol's legs carried her to Trip's room. Curled up in the sheets that still smelled like him, she finally fell asleep.

* * *

"Trip?"

Across the partition, Hoshi waited for a reply.

"Trip?" she tried again a minute later. "Trip, please..." Hot tears stung her eyes. "Say something."

Finally, she heard a faint grunt of acknowledgment. Hoshi rested her cheek against the thin metal wall that lay between them and tried to keep her voice steady. "Tell me about Charles, Trip."

She closed her eyes in relief when Trip murmured, "Charlie."

"That's right. Charlie." Hoshi smiled even though her lip was split in two places. "I bet he'll look like you."

"Nh-uh." His reply worried her until he added, "T'Pol."

Encouraged by this, she nodded. "Well, her ears, sure. But he'll definitely have your eyes. And your nose." Hoshi put her hand on the wall. "Right, Trip?" A few seconds passed. "Right?"

She was just about to start yelling for a guard when Trip finally echoed, "Right."

Licking the bloody corner of her lip, Hoshi readjusted her position, until she was sitting up with her back against the partition. "Why don't we go through the words I taught you last night? Do you remember them?"

"Hosh..."

"I'll say a word and you give it to me in Vulcan." She gave him a second before she started with, "Father."

She felt movement behind her, as if Trip was shifting his own position. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can. It's _a'nirih_, remember?" A second passed. "How about mother? Can you say 'mother'?"

The wall behind her buckled, like he suddenly slammed his palm against it. "I said I can't!"

For a long minute, Hoshi fought to keep her tears at bay, but it was a losing battle. They tumbled down her cheeks, leaving clean tracks in the smudges of dirt and blood. He was her last link to the world. If she lost him...it wouldn't be long before everything that had been done to her pushed her over the edge.

"Please, Trip," she begged him. "You can't give up." Her voice gave out and it took some time for her to find it again. "I can't do this without you. Please..."

She heard him sigh and felt him touch the wall again, not in anger, but as if asking for forgiveness. "Mother." He thought for a second. "_Ko_..._ko _somethin'."

"_Ko-mekh_. Now..." Hoshi wiped away the last of her tears. Everything would be all right. She just had to keep Trip focused. She had to keep herself focused, not on the past, not on the present, but on the future. "What about 'baby'?"

Suddenly, he sniffed, like he was struggling with tears of his own. "Hosh, I gotta...gotta be there. With her. When Charlie's born."

"You will." Encouraged by his resurgence of energy, Hoshi assured him, "You won't miss it, Trip, I promise you. There's still plenty of time for them to find us."

But after five weeks of thirst and hunger, cold and torture, even Hoshi was having a hard time believing in her own words.

"So...baby?" she asked Trip again.

A smile lit up her bruised face when he correctly replied, "_Kan-bu_." It only grew bigger when he said, "Gimme another."

* * *

Although he'd only had two short glasses of bourbon, Archer was convinced he was seeing things. He blinked at the blue, antennaed man who had just appeared on his screen. "Shran?"

"Why so surprised?" the Andorian asked, as if they'd seen each other only yesterday instead of over a year earlier...and hadn't nearly fought to the death when they had. "Is there anyone else who ever bothers to come to your rescue when you need it the most?"

Archer frowned. "Why aren't you in uniform?"

"That's a very long story that I'll be happy to share with you over a glass of ale sometime." Shran leaned forward. "But right now, I have news."

"News?"

"Oh, are you ever going to owe me after this, Pink Skin." Shran's fully-recovered antennae straightened at the prospect. "I've found your missing officers."

* * *

To Be Continued

A/N: Specials thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary. Look them up at www(dot)starbase(dash)10(dot)de(backslash)vld(backslash)


	14. Dreams in Digital

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing...in spite of the torture;) I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Do you wonder what it's like_

_Living in permanent imagination?_

_Sleeping to escape reality_

_But you like it like that_

_- Orgy, "Dreams in Digital"_

* * *

"Commander?" Phlox glanced up from Ensign Cartwright's minor plasma burn as T'Pol entered Sickbay. "Are you all right?"

Glancing at the engineer, T'Pol took a step back towards the door. "I can come back another time."

"Nonsense. I'm almost done here." Continuing his instructions, Phlox told the young woman, "Use the salve I gave you three times a day, change the bandage often and the next time you're re-routing EPS junctions, be a little more careful."

With a smile and a quick, "Thanks, Doctor," Cartwright slipped off the bio-bed. "Commander," she acknowledged T'Pol.

"Ensign."

When they were alone, Phlox started replacing his supplies. "Commander Kelby might be keeping the ship running, but under his supervision, the safety record in Engineering has taken a serious downward..." He suddenly realized to whom he was ranting about the absence of the chief engineer. "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"I haven't felt the baby move in several hours." T'Pol paused. "I'm...concerned."

"Of course. But you are still in your second trimester," Phlox reminded her.

"Meaning?"

The doctor gestured for her to lie down on the bio-bed which, thanks to her blossoming stomach, took more effort than usual. "It's normal at this stage to go for several hours, possibly even a day or two, without feeling any movement. Still, let's see if we can coax him out of his nap." He gently pushed on her belly with two fingers. "Have you had any other problems?"

"No." T'Pol thought for a second. "I did sleep for eight hours last night."

Phlox fought back a smile. "I'm not sure I would call that a problem for a woman in your condition, Vulcan or otherwise."

"I haven't slept for more than a few hours at a time since..." T'Pol stopped. "It's been weeks." Her nails dug into her palms. "I shouldn't waste time sleeping while he's still out there. While he still needs my help."

"I understand how difficult this has been for you," Phlox said quietly. "But your body knows what it needs to keep your child healthy. I suggest that you not fight it. Besides...aren't we on the trail of a new lead?"

Her tone grew dark. "The captain believes so."

"But you don't?"

"I want to," T'Pol said after a moment. It seemed as if she might say more, but right then, she felt a solid kick from within her womb. Instinctively, her head came off the bed and her hand covered the spot.

"There you go." Smiling broadly, Phlox patted her arm. "Better?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "Yes." Opening them again, she blinked rapidly, as if fighting off unwanted emotion. "He's quite strong."

"Like his father."

T'Pol's mouth twitched, but any reply she had to do that was forgotten when, through the comm system, they heard, "Archer to T'Pol."

Easing off the bed, she crossed to the panel on the wall. "Go ahead, Captain."

"The Andorian transport ship's arrived. Meet me at the airlock in five minutes."

"Understood." After taking a second to gather her composure, T'Pol looked at Phlox. "Thank you for your help, Doctor."

"Any time, Commander." Phlox sighed as she walked out of Sickbay. "Any time."

* * *

_For a woman who's just bared herself to him without prelude or warning, she's surprisingly shy when Trip lowers her to the floor. She breaks their kiss by turning her head to the side, allowing him access to the smooth length of her neck. _

_"Darlin'..." He feels her tremble beneath him as he nips at her ear. "You're sure you want this?" _

_Her hands move up and down his back. "Yes," she decides with distinct moan that makes him harder than hell. "I've just never...before." _

_"We can stop," Trip tells her, although the very idea makes him ache and not in a good way. "Anytime. You just say the word." _

_Her kiss is feral; he wonders if his lips will be bruised in the morning. "I want this." She lifts her hips, grinding the heated center of her body against him in an invitation that leaves no room for interpretation. "Don't you?" _

_"God, yes," he groans, closing his eyes. Her breasts are soft, yet firm against his chest, like he knew they would be. "Always have...always will..." Trip feels himself rolling; his back hits the floor and suddenly, there is a hot, naked female body straddling him. He reaches for her, needing to feel all of her again. _

_But instead of soft strands of short hair, his fingers bury themselves in long, tangled locks. Frowning, Trip opens his eyes...only to find that it isn't T'Pol looking down at him. _

_Hoshi smiles like a Cheshire cat. "Trip..." She leans down, captures his mouth. "Show me everything..." _

As men of science and military respectively, the two Romulans watched as their prisoner screamed and fought against his bonds with arms that were already bruised and scarred. "No!" Trip shouted, lost to the manipulated images playing in his mind. "That's not...it wasn't..." His head whipped back and forth against the metal table. "T'Pol!"

Calmly, but loud enough to be heard over the Human's screams, the subcommander asked, "How much longer, do you think?"

The scientist shook his head. "I couldn't say exactly. Although he's proven more useful to our purpose than our Vulcan test subjects, his mind is still strong. His memories are vivid, much more so than the female's, and he's retaining them with far more clarity than I expected."

"But you anticipate success?"

"Absolutely," his colleague replied, faintly indignant. "He might have a strong mind, but it's weakening with every session."

Trip's anguished cries echoed off the walls. "T'Pol, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, darlin'..."

"Give it another few days." The scientist nodded with satisfaction. "I assure you, Subcommander, you won't be disappointed."

* * *

"You still don't trust him, do you?"

As they waited at the airlock, Archer glanced at his first officer just in time to see her slanted eyebrow arch. Staring straight ahead, T'Pol's reply was cool. "Obviously, you do."

"I do. Not very logical, I know...he's made some questionable decisions in the past. But T'Pol..." When she said nothing, Archer tried again. "T'Pol." Finally, she turned her head and afforded him a look. "He says he knows where Trip and Hoshi are being held." He paused. "Whether you trust him or not, don't we have to follow every lead?"

"Doesn't it worry you that he refused to give you any details and insisted on this rendezvous?" she asked after a second.

"I'm sure he has his reasons." Just then, the door started to open. "Let's find out what they are."

Although several inches shorter than _Enterprise's_ captain, Shran filled the airlock door frame like a man three times his size. "Captain Archer."

Holding out his hand to the Andorian, Archer returned the greeting. "Shran." As they shook, he studied the relaxed look on the man's normally perturbed blue face. "You seem well."

"I only wish I could say the same about you, Pink Skin," Shran said with genuine regret. "I'm sorry about your people. I understand Commander Tucker is one of them." Archer nodded. "That's a shame. He was a brave man."

"He is not dead."

Turning his attention to T'Pol, Shran looked her up and down, his eyes growing wide at the sight of her expanded waistline. "Of all the things I never thought I'd see..." He glanced at Archer. "Are congratulations in order?"

"For her," Archer said somewhat stiffly. "Not for me."

Intrigued, Shran turned back to T'Pol. Her stone cold expression was an answer to his unspoken question. "Well," he chuckled, "I suppose I have another reason to admire your engineer now."

"You've said that you have information on the whereabouts of our crew." T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "Information that you could only deliver in person."

"I couldn't risk speaking over the comm channel," Shran said.

"Why not?"

Shran ignored T'Pol. "I suggest we continue this somewhere private, Captain."

"We can go to the conference room," Archer agreed. "But my first officer will be joining us." He indicated for Shran to walk ahead. "You know the way."

Five minutes later, behind closed doors, seated at the long table with a glass of Andorian ale in his hand, Shran was ready to talk.

"Understand," he began, "that what I'm about to tell you is highly classified. In fact, I only learned of it by calling in most of the favors I've had coming to me for the past few years. If my former superiors ever found out I was here..." Rather than finish the sentence, he drained his blue liquor in one gulp.

Standing off the side, T'Pol folded her arms just above the bulge of her stomach. "You're no longer with the Imperial Guard?"

"I'm on leave," Shran replied. "Temporarily." To Archer alone, he added, "In a few weeks, Jhamel is going to make me a father."

"I had no idea you and she were..." Clearing his throat, Archer poured him more ale. "Congratulations. That's great news."

Shran nodded. "Yes. It's been an eventful year." His eyes shifted to T'Pol. "Hasn't it?"

"Our crew members have been missing for almost six weeks," she informed him. "Perhaps we could focus less on pleasantries and more on your classified information."

The Andorian gave in with a smirk. "Have it your way." He drained his second glass in one gulp. "Six days ago, one of our long-range subspace transceivers picked up a coded message from the Azure Nebula. From what we've managed to translate, it appears to be orders to a ship in the area regarding the interrogation of two prisoners of war."

"Is that all?" T'Pol ignored the look that shadowed Shran's face as she continued, "A half-translated message with a vague correlation to our missing officers? Hardly worth the time and energy it took to get you here."

Shran's antennae curled over his forehead. "If you would let me finish," he growled. "The Azure Nebula is well within Klingon territory, but the message was not in Klingon."

"What was it in?" Archer asked.

"That is the question, Captain. Our database didn't recognize the language at first and what characters it translated right away were Vulcan in origin."

T'Pol reminded him, "Our people were taken by Romulans, not Vulcans."

"Are you telling me, Commander T'Pol, that you haven't noticed how similar Romulan is to your own language?" Shran gave her a second to think this over before he pushed on, "But you're missing my point. The Klingons guard their borders well, especially in light of recent...problems within in the Empire. Any ship lingering in their space would be detained or destroyed. Unless..." He paused for effect. "It couldn't be seen."

"A cloaked ship." Archer looked at T'Pol. "But why would the Romulans hide in Klingon space?"

"That I don't know," Shran admitted. "But I do know that no Coalition vessel can possibly track this message back to its source without facing a fleet of Klingon battle cruisers. At the very least, though, we have a starting point."

"We?" T'Pol asked tartly. "I thought you were on leave."

"And I thought you and I had reached some sort of peace!" Shran snarled, jumping to his feet to put himself on the same level as her. "I am trying to help you find your missing crew members, one of whom appears to be rather important to you, but if you insist on finding fault with every..."

Archer stepped in. "Commander T'Pol has been under a lot of stress recently. I'm sure she appreciates your help." He threw her a look. "Even if she's having a hard time showing it."

Slowly, Shran sat back down. "I'm not unfamiliar with the mood swings of a pregnant female." Still, he glared at T'Pol. "But why don't you save them for the Romulans who took your mate?" T'Pol lifted her chin a notch. Shran turned to Archer. "If we could figure out a way to infiltrate Klingon space, we could locate this ship. Rescue your people."

"It's a long shot." Archer shook his head. "How are we supposed to find a ship that can't be seen?"

"In my experience, Pink Skin, trouble follows wherever you go." Shran pointed at Archer with his empty glass. "They might find you first."

Archer smiled ruefully. "Maybe. But that still doesn't answer the question of how we intend to waltz across the Klingon border undetected. We don't exactly have stealth technology."

T'Pol, who had crossed to the farthest corner of the room, turned back around all of a sudden, drawing the men's attention. "But we know a species that does."

* * *

_He wakes to the scent of the ocean. Opening his eyes, Trip sees the open window, feels the warm breeze that fans the lace curtains. It's morning, but he has no willpower to rise. The cotton sheets feel too good against his skin. _

_And there's a warm body curled up against his back. _

_"You awake?" he asks. _

_Trip feels her soft lips against his shoulder blade. "Mostly," she replies. "I was hoping you'd keep sleeping." She pauses and he swears he hears a faint sniff. "And miss your transport." _

_It takes a second for him to turn over onto his other side in order to see her. When he can, Trip tilts her chin up to meet his gaze. "I thought we agreed..."_

_"Have I asked you to stay? No." She threads her fingers through his and brushes a kiss across his knuckles. "I know how much this means to you and I'm proud of you, Trip. I really am." Her smile, the first thing he ever noticed about her, is genuine. "How many girls can say their boyfriend is the Chief Engineer of the _Enterprise_?" _

_"But...?"_

_A shadow crosses her beautiful face. "But...you're not just moving to San Francisco this time. You're leaving Earth. You'll be exploring new planets...meeting new people. What if you forget me?"_

_"Never gonna happen," Trip swears. "I love you, Natalie." _

_"As much as you love that Warp-5 engine?" she teases. _

_Lost in her green eyes, his answer is simple. "More." _

_Natalie strokes his stubbled cheek with her fingers. "And T'Pol? What about her?"_

_"T'Pol?" Trip frowns. "Who's T'Pol?"_

* * *

To Be Continued


	15. Slipping Away

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out. I started a new job, writing reviews for a website called Daemon's TV, and it's been taking up a lot of my evening writing time. But getting paid to dissect and discuss TV shows...there's only one better job and that would be actually writing the shows themselves.

On a different note, I got a comment about how the Vulcans didn't know that the Romulans were related to them at this point, and the commenter was correct. But as the Romulans had already figured it out (they refer to the Vulcans as "cousins" on the show), I find it hard to believe that not a single Vulcan, or anyone like Shran who bothered to look closely, hadn't started to figure it out.

Enjoy the chapter! And thank you so much for all of your support!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_But tryin' to make it through each day_

_I'm fallin' apart now in every way_

_I'm findin' it harder to get by_

_There's a hole in my heart_

_And I don't know why..._

_- Sum 41, "Slipping Away"_

* * *

For the first time in weeks, T'Pol lit a candle, closed her eyes and reached out to Trip with her mind.

_Can you hear me? Trip, I'm here, can you feel me? _

She expected to feel the cold, the pain, the isolation...everything she'd been avoiding for the sake of their child. But there was nothing. She frowned and concentrated harder.

_I know that you're alive, Trip. I can feel it. Please...let me hear you. Let me see you. _

After what seemed like hours alone in the vast emptiness of her white space, T'Pol slowly opened her eyes. Whether Trip couldn't or wouldn't find her, she didn't know, but one thing was clear.

It was time to bring him home.

Apparently, the baby agreed; she could feel him moving within her, a tiny reminder that the human expression "miracles happen" had some basis in fact. The child's continued existence was nothing short of wondrous, but T'Pol had come to the conclusion that without Trip there to share the experience, the happiness she had briefly touched was almost impossible to find again.

"I will find him," she quietly vowed to the child. "You will know your father. He will..."

The door chime interrupted her. As she wasn't anticipating company, T'Pol stood, took a second to regain her balance thanks to the new shape of her body and went to the door.

She blinked upon seeing Shran. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes. An apology." His antennae twitched. "But I don't see that happening." He pointed inside her quarters. "May I?"

T'Pol considered this for a second before stepping back, allowing him to enter. As she watched Shran move about her room, looking over everything personal and sacred in her life, she couldn't help but marvel over how much the world could change in five short years. Who would have ever thought she would invite an Andorian in her private space?

"You don't trust Andorians." Shran faced her, his hands behind his back. "Or is it just me?"

"Do you trust Vulcans?" she countered.

"Archer trusts you. And I trust him." The Andorian snorted softly. "These pink skins have been a bad influence on both our people."

T'Pol crossed her arms. "An influence, yes, but I'm not certain it's been a bad one."

Shran's eyes slipped down to her belly. "I wonder if the High Command would agree." He paused. "Are they aware of..."

"The High Command no longer exists as you and I have known it," T'Pol cut him off. Another moment passed. "Much has changed, Shran."

He inclined his chin. "All we can do is try to keep up."

T'Pol lowered her arms to her sides. "Perhaps I have been...allowing my preconceptions to cloud my judgment."

"Well, now." Shran's antennae straightened in surprise. "That has to be the most Vulcan apology I've ever heard." He quickly added, "And I accept it." Searching for a means to break the moment, Shran glanced around and out of all the objects in her room, he zeroed in on the shellacked alligator head. "Is that some sort of art piece?"

"No." T'Pol hesitated. "It's called an alligator. A reptilian species native to Earth."

"Since when do Vulcans display animal carcasses?" Shran turned back to her. "Unless...it was a gift?" She stared at him without blinking. "You never cease to surprise me, Commander," he chuckled. "How long have you been involved with the Human?" T'Pol refolded her arms. "I withdraw the question."

"You asked if I trust you," T'Pol said a minute later. "I don't have the luxury of distrusting you. Not when his life is on the line."

Shran conceded this with a nod. "It's amazing, isn't it...what we'll do, what alliances we'll make and sins we'll commit...for the ones who matter the most to us."

"Archer to T'Pol."

With her eyes still on Shran, T'Pol reached for the panel. "Go ahead, Captain."

"There's a transmission coming in." Archer paused. "It would appear that they got our message."

The instant wave of relief that coursed through her must have shown on her face; Shran tilted his head to one side as he studied her. What did it matter? T'Pol told herself. He had already put all the pieces together.

"I'm on my way," she told the captain before closing the comm channel. "Before we go, there's something you should know about our previous encounter with this species. It has to do with Commander Tucker." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "But if you ever repeat what I'm about to tell you, alliance or not, I will find a way to make you very sorry that you did."

Intrigued, Shran perched on the edge of her desk and waited for her to continue.

* * *

"_Haru ga kitta, haru ga kitta...doko ni kitta?_"

How many times had Hoshi made her grandmother sing her to sleep? Closing her eyes, she could barely recall her Obaa-san's beloved face, just the memory of the sleepy warmth that had always accompanied the song.

Her dry, cracked lips barely moved, but she kept singing. "_Yama ni kitta. _Um..._sato ni kitta. No ni mo kitta." _

"Hosh..."

The weak sound of Trip's voice brought tears to her eyes. It had been so many hours since he'd spoken that she'd started to wonder... Shaking off her fear, she whispered, "I figured if I sang...you might try to stop me."

"Hosh." She sensed movement on the other side of the partition. "Where are we?"

The fear instantly returned, like there was a switch in the center of her chest. "Trip? What are you...?" Her throat closed up. "You know where we are. You're playing some kind of game...aren't you?"

Long seconds of silence passed. "Romulans," he finally said.

Her shoulders relaxed. "That's right. Romulans."

"You think...this is what...Cochrane had in mind when he said...new life...new...new civilizations?" Trip's laugh turned into a cough that sounded dangerous. Not for the first time, Hoshi longed to see Phlox. "Natalie...she was right...to worry 'bout me."

"Natalie?" Hoshi searched her memory for the name. "I don't know who that is, Trip."

"Natalie from Pensacola," he repeated softly. Reverently. "The girl...I left behind. For _Enterprise_."

Hoshi frowned. "Trip, that was over five years ago." He made a noise that could have been agreement or confusion. "Now you have Commander T'Pol. Remember?"

"T'Pol?" He wheezed out a chuckle. "What kinda...happy juice do they got you on, Hosh?" He paused. "She won't even shake my hand."

"Oh, god...Trip." Hoshi laid both of her hands on the wall, reaching for him through the corrugated metal. "Whatever they're doing to you...you have to fight it. You have to remember." She slammed her fists against the partition. "You have to remember!" Her burst of energy depleted, her palms slid down the rusted wall as she drew her knees up to her chin, tucking herself into a ball. "I can't hold on to your memories, too."

_Haru ga kitta. _Spring is coming.

Hoshi closed her eyes. Spring had never seemed so far away.

* * *

"Ah'len." Archer looked at his science officer as she walked onto the bridge, taking a second look when he noticed Shran right behind her. Glancing back at the alien woman on the main screen, he continued, "This is my First Officer, Commander T'Pol. She..."

"I'm familiar with Commander T'Pol, Captain," Ah'len said. To T'Pol, she added, "Commander Tucker spoke very highly of you."

Archer could feel T'Pol bristle, like she always did when anyone used the past tense in reference to Trip, but to her credit, she merely replied, "As he does you."

"Your captain has explained the situation, but he hasn't said why you've gone to so much trouble to contact us."

T'Pol came down the steps, past the captain's chair and stopped just behind Travis. "For one very simple and admittedly self-serving reason. In order to find Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato, we need to enter Klingon space undetected."

Ah'len caught on immediately. "You require a ship with stealth technology. A ship such as ours."

"I realize this is a monumental request," T'Pol admitted. "But seeing as how it's for the man who carried your child..."

"It's not necessary to convince me," Ah'len interrupted. "But my people are not a violent race, Commander. Our weapons are limited. And given our previous contact with the Klingons, I doubt the crew would support my decision to take our ship into their territory."

Archer glanced at T'Pol. Her expression was a mask of composure, but he could see the twitch at the corner of her mouth. "I understand," she said calmly, as if this was exactly what she had expected to hear. "I am grateful that you replied to our message." She paused. "Trip would be, as well."

He couldn't be entirely sure, of course, but for a long time afterward, Archer suspected that it might have been T'Pol's unconscious use of Trip's nickname, rather than his title, that prompted what followed.

"Commander." Ah'len's green eyes darted back and forth, like she was deciding something, before they finally settled on T'Pol. "There is another way. But I will have to get permission from my superiors." She glanced back at one of the two Xyrillians standing behind her. "Send us your coordinates."

Archer looked at the comm officer who had temporarily taken Hoshi's place. "Go ahead."

Once the data was transferred and Ah'len had studied it, she nodded. "We'll meet you there in two days. Until then, Captain...Commander."

T'Pol's voice wavered ever so slightly as she answered for them both. "Until then." The communication ended and T'Pol grabbed the back of Travis's chair for support. But when Archer reached for her, she quickly straightened up. With one hand on her belly, she turned to face him. "I believe I may know what Ah'len is thinking, Captain, and it will require some preparations in Engineering. I'd like to oversee the work. With your permission."

"T'Pol..." Archer stopped. She didn't need to be reminded of her condition. "Permission granted."

He watched as she left the bridge, still moving with the quiet grace he'd always associated with her, despite the child she carried. He barely noticed Shran moving across the bridge, coming up behind him.

"I've never met a Vulcan like her," Shran noted.

"There isn't another Vulcan like her."

Archer could feel Shran's eyes boring into him. "No. Probably not."

"Do you plan to stay?" He looked at the Andorian. "You're more than welcome."

"As much as I long for another adventure with you, Pink Skin, Jhamel needs me more than you do right now. I'll make my own arrangements for transport." Shran clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "In the meantime, a glass of Andorian ale can do wonders for the spirit."

Together, they headed for Archer's ready room.

* * *

Everything inside Trip's head was a mess, a jumble of jagged bits of memories that he wasn't even certain were real, as well as emotions and urges that seemed incomprehensible. What had ever caused him to point a phase pistol at the captain? How did he know what it felt like to die of an incurable disease? Why did he know that Subcommander T'Pol's skin was hot to the touch, nothing like the ice he'd always imagined?

It was enough to drive a healthy man crazy and from the way he couldn't stop coughing, Trip had a feeling he wasn't all that healthy anymore.

He could hear Hoshi singing to herself on the other side of the wall, but he had no idea what the words meant. She seemed to know a song in every language she spoke. All he knew was English, a smattering of Spanish and some Vulcan.

Vulcan? How the hell did he know any Vulcan?

The door swung open, as it had so many times before. Trip didn't even bother fighting with the two Romulans who grabbed him under each arm. Even if he'd had the energy, there just wasn't any point anymore.

Despite his listlessness, they still strapped him down in the room he had come to call "the Chamber." It was all so medieval, except Trip had never figured out exactly what his captors wanted with him. He vaguely remembered that there had been a few random questions about Starfleet and the Coalition, but nothing since then. Or...had there been? He couldn't remember.

What might he have told them? What classified information could they have gotten out of him? Trip could feel panic bubbling up inside of him and for the first time in days, he struggled against the restraints.

"Trip, Trip, Trip." The Voice, as he had started think of his faceless torturer, sounded disappointed. "I thought you had moved past this need to fight your situation."

"What do you want with us?" he demanded. "What more...what more can you want from me?"

The Voice sighed. "Are all Humans so fixated on their own worth? Could it possibly be that what I want has nothing to do with you?"

Trip squinted against the light that kept him from seeing much of anything. "Hoshi?" he asked. "You want Hoshi?"

"Like our Vulcan cousins, the female doesn't suit our purposes. But the day might come when she proves useful. If we didn't anticipate that day, she would have been disposed of a long time ago."

The very painful idea of losing Hoshi, of being alone in this place chilled Trip like the temperature never had. He swallowed heavily. "So...it is me?"

"You have been an excellent test subject."

"Have I?"

"Yes. I don't mind admitting that to you, Trip, because it's highly unlikely you'll remember this conversation an hour from now. In truth, you owe your life to having such a strong, yet suitable mind. My military colleagues wanted to destroy you and your ship the moment you reached the _T'Vok_." He lowered his tone. "I believe they hold Humans responsible for the destruction of one of our vessels."

Trip struggled for the memory, but it only came to him in fragments. "We...lost a ship, too. I think..."

"You really ought to be thanking me, Trip. I stepped in, saved your life, not to mention the lives of your fellow Humans."

"Yeah." His teeth ground together. "We'll put up a statue of you." An object was thrust into his eye line, between him and the lights, but all he could see was a dark square. "What's that?"

"Don't you recognize it?" the Voice asked. "Bring it closer him."

The object moved forward several inches, until Trip could see that it was a photograph. He strained to focus on the blurry image. "It's a baby," he finally concluded.

"Can you tell me anything more about it than that?"

Trip's head pounded, but he managed to focus on one distinct feature in the picture. "It's a Vulcan baby?"

"Anything else?"

"Beats me," Trip gave up a minute later. "Am I supposed to know who it is?"

The Voice sounded pleased and for some reason that worried him more than anything else he'd learned that day. "No, Trip. You aren't. Not anymore."

* * *

To Be Continued


	16. Bridge Over Troubled Water

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you so, so much for all the continued support...and your faith in Trip. He needs all the help he can get:) Enjoy!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Oh, when darkness comes_

_And pain is all around_

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down_

_- Simon and Garfunkel, "Bridge Over Troubled Water"_

* * *

"Did you see our guest off?"

"I personally escorted him to the airlock." Malcolm set down his dinner tray and took the seat across from Travis. "And I don't mind admitting that I feel much better now that he's gone." He picked up his fork. "Where Shran goes, trouble tends to follow."

Travis smiled. "I bet he says the same thing about Captain Archer." He waited until Malcolm had taken a few bites of his pot roast and vegetables. "Do you think he's right about the Romulan ship?"

"I've spent hours reviewing all of the data he gave us." The armory officer shook his head. "If he's sending us on a wild goose chase, he's gone to a lot of trouble to make it seem convincing."

"Well, we gotta take any lead we can get," Travis said, suddenly solemn. "Whatever it takes to get Hoshi and Trip back."

A bite of pot roast stuck in Malcolm's throat; it took half a glass of water for him to swallow it down. When he did, he found that his appetite had all but disappeared.

"I can still hear her screaming." Looking down at his plate, Malcolm saw nothing but the dark bridge of the _T'Vok_. "In my dreams. Sometimes..." The corner of his lips turned up. "Sometimes, I manage to reach her...and get her off the ship." His tone grew dark. "Most of the time, though, I just lie there like a great, bleeding prat! Useless. And they take her away."

Travis cleared his throat. "Lieutenant?"

Malcolm blinked out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

He had pretty good idea, and although his first instinct was to keep it to himself, Travis took a risk. "Wherever she is, I don't think Hoshi is blaming you for what happened."

Adopting a stiff upper lip, Malcolm curtly replied, "Of course not. She's far too forgiving."

"She just prefers to see the good in everyone," Travis said. "We'll get her back soon. And then we can get Trip to run another movie night. Something Japanese. Bet she'd like that. You probably would, too."

But the hint was lost on Malcolm Reed because, as he had convinced himself ever since their encounter with the generational _Enterprise_ in the Expanse, Hoshi Sato would always be out of his league.

"I should get back to the Armory," he decided, picking up his still-full tray. "If we're going into Klingon territory, I want every weapon we've got in working order. See you later, Travis."

"Yeah," Travis sighed. "See ya."

* * *

True to Ah'len's word, the Xyrillian ship reappeared two days later, while T'Pol and Archer shared a very quiet breakfast.

"No more french toast and olives?" he teased when the steward set down a bowl of broth in front of her.

"The cravings have passed." Remembering the quarter pound of pistachios that she'd consumed only a few days earlier, T'Pol amended her statement. "For the most part."

Archer buttered a slice of toast. "How's everything else?"

"The child seems healthy." As the zipper on the Starfleet uniform she'd been wearing for the past few weeks had refused to close that morning, she'd come to breakfast in loose-legged pants and a long-sleeved tunic top. "Growing, obviously."

He smiled as he chewed. "You look fine." She watched as the captain blushed and coughed and took a big gulp of orange juice. "I mean, it's fine if you want to wear civilian clothes from here out. Whatever you're comfortable with...it's fine."

"Thank you, Captain."

"You know, with my father's work and then in Starfleet, I've been around Vulcans my whole life," Archer started a few minutes later. "But until now, I've never seen one who was..."

"Pregnant?" He nodded reluctantly. "If not for this unusual circumstance, it's highly unlikely you ever would have," T'Pol informed him. "Reproduction is an intimate affair."

"For us, too." He poured himself some more juice and offered the pitcher to her, which she turned down with a slight shake of her head. "But it's not exactly logical to pretend it's not an essential part of humanoid existence."

T'Pol considered this. "Perhaps. But even on Vulcan, women whose conditions have become visible are encouraged to...avoid public places."

Archer stared at her. "I just figured that the Vulcan women I saw on Earth were focused on their careers or too old. I had no idea..." The look on his face was laced with shock and revulsion. "For such an enlightened people..." He stopped himself in time. "I'm sorry. It's just surprising to hear that, in at least one way...we're a little more advanced than you."

In all honesty, the unspoken customs and restrictions of her world in this particular area had always bothered T'Pol, but in her heart, she was still Vulcan and her first reaction was to defend her people and their ways.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, Captain. From what I've observed during my time on Earth and on _Enterprise_, your people freely acknowledge and embrace your sexuality, despite your protests to the contrary. There's no shame in a Human woman displaying the evidence of a successful mating session."

It annoyed her that Archer was biting his lips, desperately holding back a smile, but she forged on. "For Vulcans, however, the loss of control that accompanies most conceptions is intensely private. The idea of advertising it to the world makes us uncomfortable. To say the least."

The captain's smile was gone and after a few seconds of silence, he quietly said, "But you don't seem uncomfortable. You're not hiding in your quarters. Is that just because you're surrounded by Humans?"

"No." She lifted her cup to her lips. "Not entirely."

T'Pol sipped her tea and Archer applied himself to his eggs and bacon in silence until they were interrupted by Travis announcing the arrival of the Xyrillians.

When the senior officers entered the bridge, Malcom stood up from the captain's chair. "They're hailing us, sir."

"On screen."

"Captain," Ah'len greeted him. Her eyes shifted to T'Pol. "Commander." Not one to waste time, she moved on. "I've spoken to my government and they've agreed to aid you in this matter. In any way I see fit."

Archer frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I believe that our cloaking device can be temporarily adapted to your ship's systems," she explained. "There would be limitations, of course, but..."

"You're going to share your device with us?" As a man used to having alien technology held out of his reach, Archer was momentarily speechless. "Your superiors have no problem with this?"

"My superiors are willing to look the other way if it means that we can help without having to fight." Ah'len glanced at T'Pol again. "Besides, I've wanted to see your ship for a very long time."

T'Pol tilted her head to the side. "You'll be installing the device?" Ah'len nodded. "Can you tolerate our atmosphere?"

"I'll have to go through the decompression process, but it shouldn't be a problem." The alien looked back at Archer. "Assuming that you're agreeable to this plan, Captain, we should start right away."

"I'm all right with it," he assured her. "I'm completely all right with it."

* * *

_He offers her his hand. She looks at it with such disgust that one would have thought he was offering her another appendage entirely. Almost immediately, she turns her back on him._

_"Turn around," she orders and a moment later, he can feel her slick, slender hands on his shoulders and he says a quick prayer that his body won't give away how good they feel._

_"It takes four hands to work." And then, he's in an alien mind, on an alien ship, in the middle of an impossible ocean. "You like having people find you attractive, don't you?"_

_"I think you're mistaken about who's attracted to whom." _

_"She has an awfully nice bum! Awfully nice!" _

"Awfully...nice..." His eyes tightly shut, Trip tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry, too sore. He was cold. No, hot. Burning hot. Freezing.

_"You missed T'Pol's latest bout with chopsticks."_

_"Damn. Dinner _and _a show." _

_He can't believe she came to movie night, but then again, what else is she going to do while they're stuck in the catwalk? Maybe she's starting to loosen up a bit._

_"I suppose I should thank you...for facilitating my exploration of Human sexuality." _

_"T'Pol says 'thank you' all the time." _

_She looks so beautiful in her wedding gown. It should be him kneeling in front of her, pressing his fingers against hers, not some Vulcan architect she doesn't give a damn about! _

_"Are you getting emotional?" _

"Trip?" He opened his eyes at the small sound of Hoshi's voice. "Are you awake?" The metal wall against his arm buckled, like she was moving on the other side of it. "Are you feeling any better?"

He wasn't, but he wasn't about to tell her that he was soaked with sweat and that his lungs ached with every breath. Instead, he just murmured, "Head hurts, is all."

"You were talking a second ago. Were you remembering something?"

Trip wiped his forehead with his shaking hand. "Don't know. Felt more like..." He stopped.

"More like what? Trip? More like what?"

He coughed and tried to ignore the taste of iron in his mouth. "Dreamin'."

Whatever Hoshi said next was lost as Trip slipped back into his mind.

* * *

After Travis, who had piloted the shuttlepod to and from the Xyrillian ship, T'Pol was the first to welcome Ah'len to _Enterprise._

At the top of the metal staircase in the Launch Bay, the two women came face to face for the first time...and for a moment, neither one of them had any idea what to say to the other. After all, they only had one thing in common...and he wasn't there to break the ice.

"Do you require rest?" T'Pol finally said.

"Yes, a little," Ah'len admitted. "It's been awhile since I went through decompression."

"If you'll follow me." T'Pol walked to the hatch and opened it, leading their alien guest out into the corridor. "This is E Deck. We've assigned you quarters on G Deck."

Ah'len's gait was slow as she acclimated herself to the atmosphere, but she still looked around, taking everything in. "Where is your engine room?"

"D Deck. Just above us."

"I'm looking forward seeing it. Commander Tucker was very proud of his engine. I believe he called it his baby." When they reached the turbolift, Ah'len asked, "Were you able to retrieve the cloaking device from my ship?"

T'Pol inclined her chin. "We beamed it aboard over an hour ago." The doors opened and they stepped inside. "It's been taken to one of the cargo bays for the time being. As soon as you're ready, we'll begin installing it."

"Are you an engineer, too, Commander?"

"My specialty is science," T'Pol said. "But I'm familiar with all of _Enterprise's _systems."

Standing side by side, Ah'len got her first good look at T'Pol. "I hope this isn't rude to say, but you're...shaped differently than you were before."

"Yes." The doors opened. "I'm carrying a child."

Ah'len was quiet all the way down the corridor, until they reached the guest quarters. "Is Commander Tucker the child's father?" she finally asked.

T'Pol hesitated before pressing the button to open the door. Ah'len followed her inside. "If you require anything or need assistance, you can reach anyone on the ship through this." T'Pol gestured to the comm panel. "Dr. Phlox worries that you might not be able to digest Human food, but if you would like to join me and the Captain for dinner later, you're more than welcome."

"I'm sorry." Ah'len's green eyes were full of sympathy. "You must miss him." T'Pol glanced away. "I'm glad you were able to tango again."

Puzzled, she glanced back at the Xyrillian. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, forgive me!" Had her pebbled skin not already been colored so vividly, she might have blushed. "I didn't realize it wasn't a polite word!"

T'Pol shook her head. "The word is acceptable." Her own cheeks felt hot. "I didn't realize he had shared quite so much with you."

"We only talked," Ah'len assured her. "We didn't play the Game, not after what happened before."

"Why did you play the Game at all?" T'Pol folded her arms. "If you knew what could happen to him?"

Ah'len walked to the bunk and ran her hand over the pillow before turning around again. "Not because I wanted a child. I didn't know that was even possible with a Human." She lifted her shoulders. "He was so different from my own people. So quick to smile and make a joke, yet so smart and kind. And his eyes? I'd never seen that color of blue before." She smiled. "I admit...I found him very attractive."

The baby kicked happily; T'Pol lowered one hand to touch the spot where she could feel him moving. "I understand." A second passed. "I should let you rest."

At the door, T'Pol looked back. "Ah'len." The alien woman had sat down on the bed and was testing the spring of the mattress. She glanced up as T'Pol softly said, "Thank you."

Back her own quarters, T'Pol lit a candle, cleared her thoughts and tried, yet again, to reach her mate, the man whose child she carried with no small amount of pride.

* * *

To Be Continued


	17. Human

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I've been round-aboutly accused of dragging this story out, and I know some of that might be wanting Trip to be okay, but I just want you to know, I have a plan and things happen for a reason, I swear! I hope you don't mind coming along for the ride. Thank you for sticking with me this far:)

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Will your system be all right_

_When you dream of home tonight?_

_There is no message we're receiving_

_Let me know, is your heart still beating?_

_- The Killers, "Human"_

* * *

"I would like to try catfish." Ah'len glanced between the captain and T'Pol. "Is that possible?"

Archer smiled. "I think Chef can arrange it." He looked at the steward. "Ask him to use the recipe I gave him for Trip's birthday dinner last year. And I'll have the same thing as our guest."

"Do you like catfish, Commander?"

"I've never tried it," T'Pol answered Ah'len's question. "I'll have a salad, thank you." The steward left to take their orders to the galley. "Did you speak with Dr. Phlox about consuming Human food?"

"He gave me an injection that should resolve any issues." After examining the objects spread out before her, Ah'len picked up the spoon. "We have a utensil very similar to this, but it has much sharper edges." She found the knife. "More like this. We use it to dig out the flesh from roots."

Archer poured their guest some iced tea before filling his own glass. "How is it that you know about catfish?"

"It's Commander Tucker's favorite food," she replied. "That was the first thought I read in his mind when we played the Game."

"He must have been hungry at the time," the captain chuckled.

"Or homesick." T'Pol reached for her water glass. "If you can tolerate excessive amounts of sugar, you should also try a slice of pecan pie."

Ah'len nodded as she set the spoon and knife back into their places. "I'd like that." Copying T'Pol's movements, she picked up her own glass and took a small sip. "It's very cold. Is this water?"

"Tea," Archer said. "But it's made from water."

"Our version of water is quite different," Ah'len observed. "I see now why he didn't recognize it."

Glancing at T'Pol, Archer cleared his throat. "So, how long do you think it'll take to install the cloaking device?"

"That will depend on a number of factors, not the least of which is the problem of diverting enough energy to your deflector array."

"We'll give you as much power as we can from as many non-essential systems as possible," he assured her. "Will that let us use our weapons while we're cloaked?"

Ah'len shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know, Captain."

"We'll have to run some tests, then," Archer mused. Again, he glanced at T'Pol as she calmly sipped her water. "I'm sorry. If it was up to me, we'd already be on our way."

"It would be illogical to attempt a rescue mission before the device has been fully tested." She set her glass down. "I'm certain Commander Tucker would agree."

Something in her voice told the captain to turn the conversation back to the mechanics of the device and the best way to approach the installation process. After what seemed like a lifetime of engineering talk, the steward returned with their meals, but by then, T'Pol's appetite was gone.

As she took a few obligatory bites of her salad, she watched Ah'len marvel over the catfish. Not for the first time, T'Pol found herself wondering if there was some way to justify the consumption of flesh if it belonged to a fish and not a mammal.

She wanted to know what home tasted like to Trip.

* * *

When Malcolm could no longer ignore the headache that had been steadily growing worse from the moment he woke out of a restless sleep, he reluctantly dragged himself down to Sickbay.

"Lieutenant," Phlox greeted him. "What can I do for you?"

"Just a slight headache." But he'd never been a very good liar; Phlox immediately reached for his scanner. "I wouldn't even be here if I didn't still have a lot of work to get through."

Phlox ran the scanner around the back of his neck and up over the top of his head. "Slight, eh?" He frowned at the results. "From the look of things, I highly doubt that."

Malcolm sighed and rubbed his aching forehead. "Can you just give me something for it, please?"

"Lieutenant, only a few weeks ago, you suffered a fairly substantial head injury that left you unconscious for forty-eight hours," the doctor reminded him. "I think you know that I can't simply give you a hypospray and send you back to the Armory."

"Well, you might just have to." Malcolm folded his arms. "Maybe you're not aware of this, but in the next few days, we'll be infiltrating the territory of a very aggressive species and mounting a rescue mission on board the invisible ship of another, even more hostile race."

Phlox inclined his chin. "I understand, but..."

"I can't afford to waste time on tests or scans," Malcolm cut him off. "When Hoshi and Trip are safe again, perhaps I'll worry about my head, but until then, just give me the hypospray and let me get back to work!"

"You won't be of any use to the mission if you collapse in the middle of it, Lieutenant." Phlox stepped between him and the door. "Please don't make me order you to stay."

Malcolm swore under his breath, but a moment later, he walked to the nearest bio-bed and swung himself up onto it.

"Have you been getting enough rest?" Phlox asked as he continued his examination with a more detailed scan of the man's head. "Eating properly? Exercising?"

"Enough, I suppose." Malcolm strummed his fingers against bed frame with great impatience. "Frankly, Doctor, I just haven't had the time. Do you have any idea what goes into planning out an operation of this magnitude?"

"I don't," the doctor admitted. "But I have every confidence in your abilities, as well as in your team. Although..." He stopped.

Malcolm frowned. "What?"

Phlox sighed. "Has anyone considered merely contacting the Klingons and informing them of the situation? I can't imagine they want the Romulans hiding out in their territory. They might be willing to let us cross their border without any need for subterfuge."

"Even if Captain Archer was on better terms with the Klingons, the minute they find out there's a cloaked Romulan ship in their space, they're likely to do everything in their power to find it. And once they do, I doubt they'll think twice about destroying it, even with our people still on board."

"Your blood pressure is higher now than it was when you came in here, Lieutenant." Phlox set down his scanner. "We're all upset about Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato, but..."

"You weren't there with them," Malcolm snapped. "And before you start, yes, I realize I shouldn't still be blaming myself. Even T'Pol thinks it's illogical and if she can forgive me..." His chin touched his chest and he tightened his grip on the edge of the bed enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Why can't you?" Phlox asked for him.

Malcolm's eyes opened slowly. "The only way I can make things right...is to find them and bring them home. So forgive me if I don't think my head is all that bloody important right now!"

Phlox picked up his scanner again. "If I let you go, you will owe me eight hours of sleep, a full meal and your word that if your head even so much as throbs again, you will come straight here. No excuses."

Malcolm slid off the bed, his eyes never leaving the doctor's. "Deal," he finally said. Tilting his head to the side, he waited for the numbing bliss of the hypospray.

* * *

Calling a refitted storage closet the Chief Engineer's office might have been a gross overstatement, but Trip had only ever used it as a place to deal with his staff in private. Given the fact that T'Pol could see no visible change in the room from six weeks earlier, Kelby didn't even bother to utilize it at all, possibly preferring to discipline the crew out in the open, rather than behind closed doors.

He certainly had been reluctant to speak with her there.

As she faced off with the Acting Chief, T'Pol fought to suppress the memory of the last time she'd been in the room...and how completely, utterly and thrillingly unprofessional both she and Trip had been that night.

"It's not going to work."

Just over his shoulder, T'Pol could see Ah'len working at a station across the way. She suddenly regretted leaving the door open, but if she closed it now, more attention would be drawn to their disagreement.

"We haven't even fully installed the device, Commander. It's illogical to make assumptions at this..."

"Doesn't matter." Kelby crossed his arms. "The EPS conduits weren't designed to interface with alien technology. We could wind up blowing the entire grid. Maybe even the warp core itself."

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, but it did very little for her patience. "I've run the calculations several times; the risk of an overload is minute. As long as we divert enough power from..."

"From what?" He lifted his shoulders dramatically. "Weapons? Hull plating? Don't you think we'll need those when we go wherever it is we're going that we probably shouldn't be?"

"We're not having a debate about this." Her tone was even colder than her expression. "You will make the appropriate modifications."

But Kelby stood his ground. "With all due respect, Commander," his eyes slipped down to her to swollen belly, "maybe it would be better if someone else took charge of this project."

"Do you have a candidate in mind?" T'Pol took a step towards him. "Perhaps I should contact the captain and see if he has any suggestions."

"That's not necessary," Kelby said through his teeth a moment later. "I'll have my crew start re-routing the plasma flow."

Following him out the door, T'Pol watched him stomp down the stairs to the lower Engineering level. Not more than a minute later, Ah'len joined her at the railing.

"His approach was argumentative and insubordinate," T'Pol said, more to herself than to their alien guest. "But he may have a valid point. We could be putting the ship and the crew at risk."

"We've both run the calculations," Ah'len reminded her. "And Captain Archer agreed to take that risk." She looked down at Kelby as he gave directions to a group of crewmen. "I was once told that anyone can memorize the parts of a machine and their functions, but only a true engineer can imagine what those components could accomplish in a different order." Glancing back at T'Pol, she asked, "If he was here, what would Commander Tucker do?"

T'Pol's fingers curled tightly around the railing, but she said nothing. They both already knew the answer.

All of a sudden, a thought struck T'Pol and she straightened up without warning. Ah'len frowned. "Are you unwell, Commander?"

"Would you be comfortable here if I took a small break?" T'Pol asked.

"I'll be fine." Ah'len was clearly puzzled. "Is something the matter?"

Again, T'Pol ignored her question. "I'll try not to be long." With that, she left Engineering and didn't slow down until she reached her quarters.

A different order, she told herself, fumbling to light a candle. For whatever reason...and until she had cause to believe it was because something had happened to him, she refused to dwell on the possibilities for this...she couldn't reach Trip's mind.

But perhaps there was another way. After all, Trip wasn't the only Human with whom she had shared a mental connection.

Not fully understanding the lasting parameters of a mind meld, she had no expectations that she would be successful, but as with the cloaking device, it was well worth any effort or risk to try. Closing her eyes, T'Pol cleared her thoughts...and reached out to Hoshi.

* * *

_Cherry blossoms, as far as the eye can see. The entire park, usually so perfectly manicured, is covered with a layer of pink petals, like a blanket of candy. _

_It seems as though everyone in town has come out to enjoy the festival; she weaves her way through the crowd, past the taiko drummers, through the food stalls that smell so heavenly, down to the edge of the river. _

_With her hands in her pockets, she starts up the steps of the curved bridge that crosses the water. She stops in the middle and looks down, surprised to find that the water is still enough for her to see her own reflection. _

_She's just about to continue across the bridge when another face appears beside hers in the watery mirror. Exotic, yet severe...she would know it anywhere. _

_"Hoshi." T'Pol looks at her. "Can you hear me?" _

_"You're not here for the festival, are you?"_

_T'Pol shakes her head. "Are you injured?" _

_Hoshi looks down at her reflection again. It's changed; her hair is matted and tangled and her cheeks are hollow and dirty. "I'll be all right," she says. "They leave me alone now." _

_"Trip." She feels a swell of emotion, but it isn't coming from her own heart. She glances back at T'Pol only to see naked fear and longing in her Vulcan eyes. "Is Trip well?" _

_It takes a second for her to remember...she isn't in Japan. T'Pol isn't really standing next to her. And Trip...he needs her help. _

_"You have to find him. You have to get him away from them." She grasps T'Pol's arm. "They won't leave him alone!" _

_T'Pol is trembling, but her tone is calm. "What are they doing to him?" _

_The park is fading away all around them, like the candy-coating is melting. The trees, the river, the bridge...everything disappears until it's just her and T'Pol in the dark, dirty cell that has become her home. _

_They both turn their heads at the sound of deep, rattling coughing from the other side of the wall. Hoshi looks at T'Pol as she stares at the partition. It's obvious from the dread on her face that she knows, but she doesn't want to believe..._

_"He won't admit it," Hoshi finally says, "but he's getting worse. I can't do anything; I've tried, I promise you. I've tried." _

_Only a trained ear could hear T'Pol whisper, "Trip..." A second later, she steels herself, as Vulcans always do. "We're coming. For both of you." Her mouth quivers. "Tell him. Please, tell him that I..." _

The explosion came out of nowhere and although it was several decks below her quarters, T'Pol was instantly shaken to attention and the link with Hoshi was severed without warning.

Her candle toppled over; the flame was extinguished in a pool of liquid wax, leaving her in the dark with only the acrid scent of sulfur. Rising to her feet, with one hand covering her belly, T'Pol felt for the light control, nearly losing her footing when a second shockwave jerked the entire ship.

Bypassing the light, she went straight for the comm.

"T'Pol to the bridge."

"Are you all right?" she heard Archer ask a second later.

His question seemed irrelevant enough to ignore. "What's happened?"

The captain hesitated and somehow she knew even before he reluctantly replied, "It looks like an EPS junction overloaded."

In the background, T'Pol heard Travis report, "Warp drive's offline, sir. Engineering is reporting several injuries."

As if he could read her mind, Archer instantly ordered, "Come to the bridge, T'Pol."

"Captain..."

"Engineering is off limits for the time being, Commander, do you understand?"

T'Pol manged to bite back every single retort that sprung to her mind. Still, her response came out terse and bitter. "Yes, sir."

When the channel was closed, it didn't take more than a few seconds before everything that she had been holding back for the past six weeks suddenly exploded within her. All of the fear, the grief, the anxiety, the loneliness...she couldn't suppress it any longer. She didn't want to. Not now. Not in the wake of an accident for which she was entirely responsible. Not when she knew that Trip might very well be gone before she found him.

Not when her child, her possibly perfect, probably disabled child, might never know his father.

A scream ripped through her throat. She reached for whatever was closest and her hands found the low table on which she kept her meditation candles. Without a thought to the sacred objects decorating it, she grabbed it and hurtled it across the room.

* * *

To Be Continued


	18. Forever Young

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I am so grateful for all of your support. Seriously. Thank you:) Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_May you build a ladder to the stars  
And climb on every rung  
May you stay forever young_

_- Bob Dylan, "Forever Young"_

* * *

T'Pol had no memory of stumbling into Sickbay, clutching her stomach and calling for help, but when she woke from sedation a few hours later, the overwhelming emotions that had prompted her to nearly destroy her quarters had abated.

From the tell-tale soreness in her neck, she clearly owed that control to a hypospray. Possibly two or three.

"Commander." Phlox rushed to her side when she started to sit up. "How are you feeling?"

But her own health was far down on her list of concerns. "The child?"

"He's fine," the doctor assured her. "I was a little worried for a moment; you were experiencing some very minor contractions when you first came in, but they seem to have passed."

Some, but certainly not all, of her anxiety melted. "Trip." It all came tumbling back to her...the connection with Hoshi's mind, hearing Trip's crippling cough, seeing the conditions in which he'd been forced to live for weeks, knowing that he was still so far away. "I was in Hoshi's thoughts just before..." T'Pol grabbed Phlox's arm. "He's sick."

Phlox lowered his eyes. "Yes, that was one of the things you were yelling when you came in here."

"We have to do something." Her grip grew tighter as her voice deepened. "He needs medical attention."

Gently, like he was dealing with one of his frightened animals, Phlox lay his hand over hers and pried her fingers away from his arm. "We're doing everything we can. Captain Archer wanted me to tell you that repairs are already underway and our Xyrillian guest is reviewing all of the data to pinpoint what went wrong."

But T'Pol already knew what had gone wrong. She had made a mistake somewhere, some minor miscalculation that not only could have cost lives on _Enterprise_, but might very well be the difference between life or death for Trip.

A world without Trip. A lifetime without his smile. Never feeling his hands on her body ever again. Never breathing in the clean, salty scent of his skin. Never losing herself in the ocean of his eyes. Bearing his son, raising him, watching him grow...all alone.

The tears escaped her eyes before she could stop them. She wanted to turn away from Phlox, to hide the shame of letting her emotions manifest in such a blatant display, but instead, T'Pol found herself leaning towards the Denobulan.

He offered no words of comfort. Words were meaningless. He simply held her, letting her feel whatever she needed to feel, without judgment.

* * *

_"Mama...I don't feel good." _

_Standing in the kitchen, hand-mixing blueberry muffin batter, his mother doesn't turn around at the sound of her nine year-old son's pitiful voice. She's been through this before. "This wouldn't have anythin' to do with that book report that's due today, would it?" _

_"My throat hurts." He can't swallow, but he tries, just to confirm what he already knows. "Head, too." _

_"Trip..." She turns around, fully prepared to order him to start getting ready for school, but all it takes is one look at his flushed face and miserable expression and she's at his side, muffins forgotten. "Oh, honey!" He closes his eyes as she presses her cool palm to his cheek. "You're burnin' up!" _

_Lizzie, who's already in her booster chair at the table, holds out a handful of dry cereal to her brother. "Med'cine," she declares. "Feel bebber, Twip." _

_"C'mon, sweetie." He's surrounded by the scent of vanilla and freesia as his mother guides him back to his room. "Into bed with you." He's too tired to argue, too sick to protest, even when she kisses his brow, like he's a baby or something. "You'll be fine," she promises him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "It's just a little old cold...nothin' we can't handle." _

For a second, one precious second between sleep and awake, Trip truly believed that when he opened his eyes, his mother would be there with soup and a smile.

It was getting harder and harder to see nothing but the dirty, rusted walls of the Romulan brig every time he woke up.

"Trip?"

He coughed and it was like someone set his chest on fire.

On the other side of the wall, Hoshi sniffed. "Trip, please don't lie to me. How bad is it?"

What did she want to hear? That he tasted blood all the time? That his heart sometimes beat so fast he was afraid it might stop?

His mouth was drier than sand, so it made sense that his voice sounded gritty. "'s'not good." Trip coughed again. "Hosh..."

"They're coming," she cut him off. "I swear, I know this will sound crazy, but T'Pol...she was just here, Trip. She was here, talking to me, and they're coming to get us. You've just...you've got to hold on until then, okay? Promise me? Promise you won't give up, Trip, promise me!"

Fighting for each painful breath, Trip closed his eyes. "Wasn't real." A cough ripped through his throat. "Couldn't be...real."

"It was," Hoshi swore. "I don't know how she did it...maybe some weird Vulcan mind thing, but I would not lie to you, Trip. She was here and she's going to find us." There was a pause. "She knows you're sick...and she's worried. She's so worried about you."

It was a nice thought. T'Pol worried about him. As if Vulcans worried about anyone or anything. As if that particular Vulcan could ever...would ever worry about a loud, smelly Human like him.

But wouldn't it be something if it was true? He could almost imagine what it would be like to wake up to that beautiful, delicate face. Not smiling, of course...that would just be weird...but composed and serene, watching him intently.

Yet...what started as a hypothetical suddenly felt more like a memory.

_Her slender fingers toyed with the top button of his favorite Hawaiian print shirt. "I've always wondered why you employ such...loud clothing to draw female attention. You're well-shaped and attractive by conventional Human standards." _

_"Is that Vulcan for 'you're a hottie'? 'Cause if it is..." He rolled them over until she was beneath him. "Thank ya kindly, ma'am." _

Crazy, Trip told himself as he slipped into the blissful dark of unconsciousness. Totally crazy.

* * *

It took a few adjustments to T'Pol's calculations and a lot of extra hours put in by Trip's team, but three days after the overload, the Xyrillian cloaking device had been successfully integrated into _Enterprise's _sytems and they were ready to begin testing its parameters.

But it was Ah'len who would oversee the initial tests. Under Phlox's orders, T'Pol had been placed on temporary bed rest. His doctor hadn't broken patient confidentiality, but too many crew members had seen T'Pol stagger to Sickbay; rumors of her apparent breakdown were running rampant through the ship.

Whenever they found Trip, Archer had every intention of asking the man to forgive him for not noticing just how much T'Pol had been affected by his absence. But it had been all too easy to mistake a few minor emotional slips as the by-product of a stressful situation and an advancing pregnancy.

He doubted it was even the overload itself that had finally snapped her tenuous control, as the damage to the conduits and the warp reactor had been relatively minor. Still, he stood by his decision to order her to stay away from Engineering. Given her condition and the danger of further explosions, it was exactly what Trip would have wanted.

No, there had to have been something much larger and probably far more personal responsible for her near-collapse. Archer had a feeling he might never discover the true cause of his first officer's mental state. He was just glad she had sought out help before it was too late.

As if installing and testing alien technology wasn't stressful enough, the news of Trip and Hoshi's abduction had finally broken as a major story on Earth. Archer had already spoken to Hoshi's parents and assured them that he would do everything in his power to safely rescue their daughter, but it had been harder to get through to Trip's family in Mississippi.

But when _Enterprise_ finally received a message from them, it wasn't addressed to Archer at all.

With a data card in hand, he approached T'Pol's door and hit the chime. It took a minute, but she granted him entrance with a quiet, "Come in."

At least she was taking Phlox's order seriously; clad in one of Trip's button-down shirts, Archer found her sitting up in bed with a book propped against her rounded stomach. He frowned when he noticed the upturned table in the far corner of the room, but something told him not to mention it.

Pointing at her desk chair, he asked, "May I?" T'Pol nodded slightly and Archer took a seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Have you begun testing the..."

He cut her off. "Ah'len has everything under control. No shop talk, remember? Doctor's orders." T'Pol acquiesced, but she clearly wasn't happy about it. "What are you reading?" Archer asked to distract her.

She glanced down at her book as if she'd forgotten it was there. "_Walden_."

"Thoreau?" T'Pol inclined her chin. "'I learned this by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours'," Archer repeated from memory. "I should've guessed you'd get into Transcendentalism. It's very Vulcan."

"This book belongs to Commander Tucker," T'Pol informed him. His expression must have reflected his surprise because she rather tartly added, "His interests extend beyond engines and horror films."

"No argument here." Archer looked at the neon green data card. "Speaking of Trip...this arrived earlier."

Closing the book, T'Pol seemed wary. "What is it?"

"A letter from his parents." He paused. "It's addressed to you."

A crease appeared between her slanted eyebrows. "I've never spoken to either of them. They were...unable to come to Elizabeth's memorial service."

There was a catch in her voice that confirmed what Archer had always suspected. T'Pol knew full well that Mississippi had not experienced a random hurricane in January the year before. Trip had lied about his parents' absence to protect her, of course, but he shouldn't have underestimated T'Pol's intuition or intelligence.

"I can hold onto this if you want," Archer said. "Or I can get rid of it. Your call."

"It would be rude to ignore the letter entirely," she said a moment later. After another few seconds, T'Pol reached for the card and inserted it into the PADD that lay beside her on the bed.

Archer started for the door. "If you need anything..."

Glancing up from the PADD, she met his eyes. "I suppose hourly updates on the cloaking tests would be out of the question."

"Get some rest, Commander." His smile faltered. "This will work, T'Pol. And we'll bring him home."

With that, Archer left and headed straight for Engineering. Having made her a promise, he had every intention of keeping it.

* * *

Thanks to Trip's very Human propensity for sharing personal information, T'Pol knew quite a bit about Charles and Elaine Tucker. They had been married for forty years and had produced three children. Charles built and repaired boats, while Elaine had chosen to stay at home and raise their family. According to Trip, they were kind, hardworking, loving parents who had encouraged their offspring to pursue their dreams and had suffered greatly over the death of their only daughter.

It was understandable, then, why they had elected to avoid the funeral of their half-alien granddaughter.

T'Pol couldn't imagine what the Tuckers could possibly have to say to her, the Vulcan who had mated with their son. She had a feeling they knew about her pregnancy; it was highly unlikely that Trip had resisted telling them. Had they written to express their concerns? Or perhaps to encourage her to look elsewhere for a mate.

She wouldn't blame them. Her own mother had done the same. And she imagined Trip's parents would probably be far more polite than T'Les had been.

Speculation was useless, especially when all she had to do was turn on her PADD in order to find out exactly what Mr. and Mrs. Tucker had to say.

Yet as she brought up the file, T'Pol felt nauseated for the first time in weeks.

It was obvious right away that Trip took after his father; Charles Tucker II was what she imagined her mate might look like in thirty years. He had the same blue eyes, the same up-turned nose, the same laugh lines, only his ran far deeper than his son's, and a head full of salt and sand hair.

Elaine was plump and tanned, the sort of woman who would look as comfortable manning the rigging of a sail boat as she would frying catfish in the kitchen. In every way, she was the opposite of T'Pol's mother and yet she could sense a familiar strength within this woman who had raised Trip.

The Tuckers stood together, backed by what T'Pol assumed was either the Mississippi River or the Gulf of Mexico. After a few seconds of staring at the camera, Charles glanced at Elaine. "You sure that thing's on?"

"It's on, Charles," she insisted. "Smile, for goodness sake!"

He complied, if somewhat stiffly. "Hello there, Commander T'Pol. I'm...well, you probably know who I am. Who both of us are. I'm sure you've heard 'bout us from..." He swallowed. "From our son."

Elaine continued a moment later. "Before we go any further, we want you to know how very sorry we are that didn't go to California last year. I'm not gonna make any excuses; we should've been there. But it's not easy..." Her hazel eyes glistened. "We didn't know exactly what we were supposed to feel. We'd just lost Lizzie and we almost lost Trip in that horrible Expanse. And then we find out we lost a grandchild we didn't even know we had. We just...we couldn't...mourn anymore." She stopped, looking away from the camera.

Charles put his hand on his wife's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "We're not sayin' we handled it right, but I hope you can forgive us. 'Cause...you know...we're family now."

"Trip's last letter came a few weeks ago." Brushing tears away with her knuckle, Elaine smiled. "He told us about you...about the baby. We're both just tickled pink, honey! We really are."

"When this is all over, when our boy's back safe and sound, we want to meet you. We wanna know you and that grand-baby of ours." Charles nodded as if she had somehow already agreed. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, but believe you me...we spoil our grandchildren rotten. And it doesn't matter a dang bit what their ears look like."

"There's no group of people in the universe that our son trusts more than you and Captain Archer and the whole crew of _Enterprise_. I know y'all are gonna find him and bring him home." Elaine smiled again. "But for now, T'Pol...you take care of yourself. Give Trip our love when you see him." She frowned, as if suddenly remembering who she was talking to, but she never got a chance to correct herself. Her husband had already stepped forward and turned off the recorder.

Still holding the PADD, T'Pol shifted onto her side and winced as the baby kicked. Trip's parents were exactly how she had always pictured them: decent, open-minded Humans...who were absolutely unaware of just how fundamentally unprepared they were for a half-Vulcan grandchild.

The only bridge between them was Trip. If she failed...if she never brought him home...T'Pol could not even begin to imagine how difficult her child's very divided life would be.

* * *

"Are you sure, Malcolm?" Archer frowned at the image of Shuttlepod 1 on the main viewing screen. "I need you to be a hundred percent positive."

His Tactical Officer's reply came over the comm almost immediately. "Affirmative, sir. My sensors aren't detecting _Enterprise _at all. And I certainly can't see it." He paused. "All I see is...stars."

Standing in Trip's usual spot on the bridge, Ah'len nodded with satisfaction. "It seems to have worked, Captain."

At the helm, Travis shook his head in wonder. "We're really cloaked."

Running his hand down his face, Archer sat back in his chair with a noiseless sigh. "All right," he said a moment later. "Now let's see what kind of firepower we'll have."

* * *

To Be Continued


	19. Crawling in the Dark

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Real life overwhelmed me for awhile. Thank you so much for sticking with me!

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_I will dedicate_

_And sacrifice my everything for just a second's worth_

_Of how my story's ending_

_And I wish I could know if the directions that I take_

_And all the choices that I make won't end up all for nothing_

_Show me what it's for..._

_- Hoobestank, "Crawling in the Dark"_

* * *

"When are you coming home?"

There was nothing that tore at a mother's heart more than hearing a plea to return home from their only child.

Ah'len tried to smile at the image of Tu'len on her computer screen. "It won't be much longer," she promised. Knowing that she might be telling a lie, she rushed on, "Are you feeding Nalahlan?"

"Every day." But her child refused to be distracted. "Why can't you come home now?"

"I told you, I'm needed here on Commander Tucker's ship," Ah'len replied.

"I want to see Father."

Ah'len hesitated. "He's...he's very..." She tried again; how many lies was she going to tell the child? "He isn't available right now."

Her daughter frowned. "Why not?"

"Tu'len, haven't we spoken about asking so many questions?" she snapped. "I'm sorry, little one," Ah'len murmured a second later. "Commander Tucker would be happy to talk to you if he could."

"But he can't?"

"Not right now." Ah'len thought quickly. "Maybe later, you could meet Commander Tucker's..." She stopped, not knowing exactly how to describe T'Pol's relationship with Trip in a way her daughter would understand. "...wife."

Tu'len's frown returned. "Father has a wife?"

"She's a Vulcan." Never one to miss an opportunity to educate her child, Ah'len asked, "What do we know about Vulcans?"

"They don't have emotions; they have logics."

Ah'len smiled. "Not quite. In fact..." The chime on her door cut her off. "Just a minute!" she called out to the person on the other side. Looking back at her daughter, she said, "I have to go, Tu'len." Before the girl could protest or pout, Ah'len touched two fingers to her cheek. "My heart is with you, little one."

Sniffing, Tu'len returned the gesture. "My heart is with you, Mother."

With great reluctance, Ah'len switched off the screen and rose to answer the door. When it slid open, she was pleasantly surprised to see the Denobulan doctor waiting for her, a hypospray in his hands.

"Good evening, Captain." He gave her a jovial smile. "I was on my way to the mess hall and I thought I'd stop by with your injection."

"Thank you, Doctor." She stepped back. "Please, come in."

Once the door closed behind him, Phlox asked, "Have you had any digestion problems since your last injection?"

She shook her head. "No. None since that night."

Phlox chuckled. "Well, at the risk of breaking patient confidentiality, you were not the only person on board who had trouble with the chili con carne." He made a gesture with the hypospray and Ah'len obligingly tilted her head back.

Through practice, the doctor had found the best spot on her neck to administer the drug, a perfect opening between the scales in her dermal plating. The injection didn't hurt, but she closed her eyes when the hot flood of medication entered her bloodstream.

"There you go," he said a second later. "Just in time for Chef's famous spare ribs and sticky rice."

"Is Commander T'Pol feeling up to joining us for dinner?"

It had been days since the EPS overload and although Ah'len had thoroughly enjoyed working with the engineering team...although perhaps not so much with their current chief...she was looking forward to T'Pol's return to duty.

"As a vegetarian, Chef's ribs have never held all that much appeal for her," Phlox sidestepped the question. "But I'd imagine she wouldn't mind a guest later, if you wanted to stop by her quarters."

Ah'len inclined her chin. "She and the child are well, then?"

"I think it's safe to answer that," he decided. "They're both doing quite well. Any further details, however, you'll have to get straight from the horse's mouth."

She frowned. "Horse?"

"Just an odd, Human expression," the doctor explained. "I confess, I don't entirely understand it myself."

"Humans have an interesting way of speaking," Ah'len agreed. "When Commander Tucker was ill the first time he came aboard our ship, he said he was under the weather. I always meant to ask him how the weather related to his physical condition, but..." She stopped.

"You'll get a chance to ask him," Phlox said with quiet conviction. "How are the tests coming?"

"Won't the Captain want to tell you over dinner?"

"Most likely. And I'll be glad to listen to him, but you're an engineer. I'd like to hear your professional opinion."

Ah'len folded her arms over her metallic bodysuit. "I'm sure Captain Archer is just trying to explore every possibility." She paused. "But the fact is...this ship was not meant to run something as powerful as the cloaking device at the same time as your weapons array and hull polarization. There's simply not enough energy to go around."

"So, we can either be cloaked..."

"Or you can defend yourselves from an attack," she finished for him. "I don't believe we'll ever figure out a way to operate both systems concurrently, much less all three."

"Not without endangering other critical systems, like life support and gravity-plating," Phlox mused.

Ah'len smiled. "You know more about engineering than you let on, Doctor."

"Well..." His chest puffed out just a bit. "There was a time when I generated a warp field all by myself." Gesturing to the door, he asked, "Allow me to walk with you to the mess hall, Captain?"

Her smile grew wider; as she walked past him, she employed another one of the strange Human expressions she'd picked up during her short time on _Enterprise_. "By all means."

* * *

Technically, T'Pol wasn't disobeying Phlox; he'd told her that an occasional walk around the ship would benefit both her and the baby. What had gone unspoken was that those bouts of exercise were supposed to be limited to non-essential spots such as the mess hall or the hydroponics garden.

She was pretty sure the bridge was off-limits. Although, in all fairness, she'd only crossed the bridge to get to the captain's ready room, which was a gray area, as far as she was concerned.

"Come in," Archer said at her hail. When she stepped inside, he looked up from his computer screen. "T'Pol? What are you doing up this late?"

It had been several days since she'd last seen him, when he'd delivered the letter from Trip's parents...and it seemed to T'Pol like _Enterprise's _captain hadn't rested in that entire time.

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed.

Rubbing his eyes, Archer murmured, "Join the club." With a sigh, he crossed his arms. "Does Phlox know you're here?"

"He told me to walk when I felt up to it; he wasn't specific as to where I could or couldn't go."

The captain snorted. "Well, I won't rat you out." He gestured to the chair across the room and T'Pol lowered herself down onto it. "What are you at now? Twenty-five weeks?"

"Twenty-six."

Archer shook his head slightly. "And he's missing it."

T'Pol glanced down at her protruding stomach. Something in the defeated tone of his voice planted a seed of worry in the center of her heart. "Do I even need to ask how the tests are going?"

"The tests are over." The captain leaned forward. "We're as ready as we can be."

"Why aren't we on our way?"

He was quiet for a moment. "There are eighty-four beings on board this ship." Archer glanced at her belly. "Make that eighty-five. Eighty-five lives that I'm responsible for." He paused again. "I keep asking myself what Trip would do...what Hoshi would want me to do."

"You don't imagine that they would risk their lives if one of us had been taken?" T'Pol stared at him. "And you don't think that the crew feels the same way about them?" He smiled and she frowned. "I wasn't trying to amuse you."

Archer waved his hand back and forth. "I'm not, believe me. It's just sometimes hard to remember...I used to think you didn't give a damn about any of us. That you never would."

"Trip would never ask any of us endanger ourselves for his sake, that is true," she said a second later. "But considering that he would also sacrifice himself for any one of us...we'll simply have to ignore what he would want in favor of what he needs."

To her great relief, Archer nodded. "You're right."

"The last time I saw him...he was trying to protect me. And the child. And I was..." T'Pol lowered her eyes. "I wasn't making it easy for him." She forced herself to look up. "If something goes wrong or if we're too late...this might be the last thing I ever do for him."

"You can't talk like that." The captain shook his head. "This whole time, you've been the one who never believed we wouldn't find him alive and wouldn't tolerate anyone else thinking differently. I'm not going to let you give up now."

"I'm not giving up," she argued with a trace of her usual spirit. "I'm simply acknowledging that our efforts might...might be in vain." Her jaw twitched. "It's only logical."

After looking at her for a second, Archer hit the comm panel. "Archer to Mayweather."

"Yes, Captain?"

"Lay in a course to the Klingon border, Ensign. Warp Four."

Travis's reply was hesistant. "Aye, sir."

Archer turned to his First Officer. "The next few days are going to be rough. Get some rest. Captain's orders, this time."

He offered her his hand, but T'Pol declined and rose to her feet with only the chair's arms for leverage. The day was coming when she would need help getting up, but she was determined to maintain her dignity for as long as possible.

"T'Pol?" At the door, she looked back at Archer. "You don't have to answer this. You can even walk out of here and pretend I never asked, but I've always wanted to know..." He smiled sadly. "Why Trip? Out of everyone...why him?"

At first, she had absolutely no intention of responding to a question so personal and unprofessional, but once her initial shock wore off, T'Pol suddenly realized that she had asked herself the exact same question in the Expanse, shortly before her neuropressure session with Amanda Cole.

Why had she chosen Trip? He was loud and cocky and prone to jumping to conclusions; he relished in teasing her and even occasionally took pleasure in annoying her.

He was also brilliant and loyal, with a truly kind heart that didn't allow hate to fester for long and a smile that made her want to inject a deadly substance into her veins just she could fully express the emotions it stirred within her.

But more than that...there was one defining act that had answered the last of her questions. One thing Trip had done which had told her mind that her heart had made the right choice.

"Because," T'Pol's hand covered her stomach, "When I needed to marry Koss...he didn't try to stop me."

Archer frowned. "I don't understand."

"He loved me enough to let me go." She pressed the button to open the door. On her way out, she added, "Please let me know when we reach Klingon space."

* * *

"I don't really remember what happened after that. Malcolm told me later that I managed to decrypt the door code and break out of quarantine...but he must have been exaggerating." On the other side of the wall, Hoshi paused. "He also told me that I died. And you died."

Even with the invisible rock that was sitting on his chest, Trip snorted. "How'd...that work? Don't feel dead." He coughed. "Yet."

"No idea," she murmured. "Phlox never figured it out. But the first thing I do remember was waking up in Sickbay and looking for you...and seeing T'Pol standing next to your bed."

He tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. "Was she...yellin' at me...for catchin'...for catchin' an alien...disease?"

Hoshi must have moved closer to the wall because it buckled underneath his head. "Trip, if I didn't know better, I would have sworn she was crying."

"You're a...a real bad liar, Hosh."

Her reply was quiet, almost tearful. "I'm not lying. You and T'Pol..."

The door to his cell burst open just then and two Romulans stepped in. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard the door on Hoshi's side slam open a second later.

One of the Romulans stepped towards him, but Trip lurched to his feet before he could be yanked to them. "What..." A cough racked his frame. "What do you...want now?'

The alien grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the cell. At that same time, another Romulan pushed Hoshi out into the corridor. It was the first time he had seen her in weeks. Although her hair was tangled and matted with dried blood and her face was streaked with dirt and tears, her dark eyes still lit up at the sight of him. But gauging by the horrified expression that followed, he must have looked much worse than she did.

"Trip..." She lurched forward, reaching for him, but she was grabbed up and held back. Even after everything they'd been through, Hoshi still fought against the Romulan holding her. "Let me go! He's sick! He needs..."

"A doctor, yes." Trip's stomach clenched at the voice which came from the shadows. He knew that voice; the mastermind behind his torture was nearby, close enough to reach out and kill...he only needed to find him. The man continued, "I agree. Which is why...we're letting you both go."

Trip's lip curled up into a snarl. "You...lyin' bastard," he growled, his throat raw and sore.

"It isn't a lie, although I understand your reluctance to take my word at face value. The simple fact of the matter is that we no longer need either of you."

"If that was true..." He shook his head. "We'd be dead."

Out of the shadows, the man stepped forward just enough for Trip to make out the contours of his face, but not enough to actually record it to his memory. "You've helped us a great deal, Trip. Consider your life and hers as payment for your services." He looked at the guards. "Take them to the escape pod."

"Escape..." Overwhelmed by a coughing fit, Trip doubled over, allowing the guards to seize him under the arms and force him down the corridor. "Hosh...can't let 'em..."

He couldn't tell if it was hours or seconds before he was shoved into pod that seemed no bigger than the cockpit of one of _Enterprise's. _Hoshi's body slammed against his as she too was pushed inside, but before either of them could react, the door slid closed, sealing them up. A moment later, Trip felt them moving as the pod was ejected into space.

* * *

To Be Continued


	20. I'll Remember You

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I am so sorry that I disappeared for awhile. I have a good excuse, though. I wrote a book! Yes, a real, honest, 200+ page novel:) I'm now in second draft hell, but I'm more than a little proud of myself for finishing such a major project. And now I can turn a little of my attention towards my "fun writing." I sincerely apologize for the delay in getting out this chapter and I hope there's still people interested enough to read it! Thank you so much:)

BTW, if you are at all interested, I have started a blog about my writing adventures. You can find it at http: / butimreallyawriter . wordpress . com. You can also follow me on Twitter now krieli1.

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_Your eyes, that always make me shiver_

_Now they are closed, they do sometimes twitch a little_

_And your body, I could own for an hour_

_It sent me to heaven, with its speed and power_

_I'll remember you_

_You will be there in my heart and I'll remember you_

_That is all that I can do_

_But I'll remember..._

_- Sophie Zelmani, "I'll Remember You"_

* * *

Walking through the corridors of _Enterprise_, T'Pol was certain she could have heard a pin drop three decks below her. In the forty-eight hours since they had crossed into Klingon space, invisible and untraceable, it seemed like the entire crew had come to a stand-still. People still reported to duty and took their meals, but there were no movies or poker games or even laughter in the turbolifts.

They were in enemy territory and everyone was afraid to breathe wrong.

The baby must have sensed the tension. He had been cranky and restless, which meant that T'Pol hadn't been resting either. All she could do was walk around and around the silent ship, hoping that the repetitive motions would lure the child to sleep.

Charlie had his father's will, however, and wasn't easily fooled.

When it became clear that the baby wasn't going to settle down anytime soon, T'Pol let her feet carry her to Trip's quarters.

A Human might have said that there was nothing left of his scent in the room, but T'Pol's nose knew better. He was still there, all around her, perhaps not as strongly as in the first days after his abduction, but the smell of her mate was still powerful enough to make her feel as if he was simply on duty, and would return at any moment.

Lying down on his bed, one hand on the bulge of her stomach, T'Pol closed her eyes.

_"What does it feel like," he murmured, tracing the point of her ear with his finger, "when I touch you here?"_

_Her own fingers touched his navel and slowly traveled down the line of hair that led to his sex. "I would imagine something like this..."_

_His lips captured hers in a deep kiss that left her craving more. Rolling on top of her, he sank between her thighs. Her back arched at their joining; her arms circled him, pulling him closer. _

_"Trip..." she moaned._

_"I know." Withdrawing slightly, he thrust again, harder, possessing her. "I know, darlin'." He touched her chin. "Look, T'Pol...look at me." _

_It was a fight to open her eyes, but when she did, she saw crystal clear blue watching her, unblinking...unwilling to miss one second of her pleasure. _

_"I love you." Dropping his head, he kissed her, smiling when she groaned into his mouth. "Don't you ever...ever forget that..."_

_She shook her head against the pillow. "Never." Trip buried his face in her neck. "Never," she whispered. "I promise..."_

"Archer to T'Pol."

Her eyes flew open. Still aching for the memory of that night with Trip in the very bed she now occupied alone, she struggled to sit up and reach for the comm panel. "Go ahead, Captain."

"I know it's late, but can you come to the bridge?"

"On my way."

Five minutes later, she walked off the turbolift and found the bridge crew scrambling around their stations with energy she hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Captain?" Archer was standing near the weapons stations, as if waiting for Lieutenant Reed to tell him something. When he heard her address him, he turned his head towards her. "What's happened?"

"T'Pol, I don't want you to get your hopes up," he began, starting towards her. "The cloaking device is draining a lot of our power, and our sensors have been acting up..." Drawing in a breath, Archer continued, "We've picked up a signal nearby."

She frowned. "A signal? What kind of signal?"

"A distress call," he clarified. "Malcolm's traced it back to what he thinks is the source."

"Captain." Her frown grew deeper. "We're deep in Klingon territory. A rescue mission isn't just illogical; it would be impossible to..."

Archer shook his head. "No, you don't understand, T'Pol. The message isn't in Klingon."

Staring at him, T'Pol dared to ask, "What language is it in?"

"Ensign?" the captain asked the comm officer on duty, his eyes never leaving T'Pol's. "Can you play it, please?"

With the press of a button, a familiar, staticky voice filled the bridge. "If anyone is out there...if anyone can hear me...this is Ensign Hoshi Sato of the Earth vessel, _Enterprise_. Please respond. Repeat, this is Ensign Hoshi Sato of the _Enterprise_. We are adrift and in need of help. Please respond."

"We." T'Pol blinked. "She said 'we.'"

Archer nodded. "Yes, she did."

T'Pol could feel herself trembling; she grabbed onto the nearest console she could find for support. "How far away is the signal?"

His own voice strangely tremulous, Malcolm replied, "Ten minutes at warp four."

"Travis." Breaking eye contact with T'Pol, Archer walked to his helmsman. "Set a course. Warp five."

* * *

The Romulan escape pod's minimalistic communication system was no match for Hoshi. Within a few hours of being shot into space, she had managed to rig up a distress signal that she hoped was being broadcast on a frequency that the Romulans, were they still in the area, wouldn't pick up.

"Good job," Trip told her when she announced her success. "Someone will...will find you."

"They'll find both of us," she told him. "Alive."

There was barely any space between them as the pod was really only designed for one life form, but every time Trip had to cough, he did his best to direct his face as far away from Hoshi as he could.

"I got one foot...in the grave," he tried to joke. But the bloody spittle at the corners of his mouth was no laughing matter. "You're gonna make it. You gotta...Hosh." Trip's Adam's apple bobbed. "Tell Phlox...tell him to crack my head...crack it open. Figure out...what they did to me. Okay?"

"Stop talking like that!" Hoshi grabbed his arms. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm making that an order."

He tried to smile. "Can't get a court martial...from a dead guy."

Leaning forward, Hoshi rested her forehead on his shoulder. "If you could just remember..." Tears flooded her eyes. "You wouldn't talk like this if you could remember."

"Remember what?" Trip asked again, "Hosh, remember what?"

She was just too tired to elaborate. "Everything." Sitting up straight, she looked him in the eye. "What's your last clear memory of being on _Enterprise_?"

With a frown on his face, his chest and cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold back a cough. After a moment, he was able to reply, "Heading for the Expanse."

"The Expanse?" she repeated. "Trip, that was almost three years ago!"

"Can't be," he insisted. "Lizzie just..." His throat closed up. "It's only been a few weeks since she..." A moment passed. "I keep dreamin' 'bout her. Her and..." He stopped.

"Who?" Hoshi prompted. "Trip, who else are you dreaming about?"

"Someone...I can't ever have." A second later, Trip laid his head down on his arm. "Can we stop? Gettin' real hard...to stay awake." He closed his eyes. "Sure nice of them...letting us go. Without food...no water."

"The distress call went out. I know it did." Hoshi rested her own head on her arm. "It's just a matter of time until someone finds us." She added a quick, "Both of us. Alive. Understand?"

Trip was already asleep, his deathly pale face strangely peaceful.

* * *

The minutes felt like hours, yet T'Pol refused any offers to sit down. She was afraid to move, afraid that if she did, it would all go away. Even if she was imagining everything, which she feared she might be, she wanted to see this dream through to the end.

She wanted to see Trip, to touch him, kiss him before she woke up.

"I'm picking up an object at the approximate coordinates," Malcolm announced, breaking the silence that had fallen over the bridge.

"On screen," the captain ordered.

An image of a drifting vessel, about a fourth of the size of one of their own shuttlepods, appeared in front of them. "It could be an escape pod," Travis said.

"Bio-signs?" Archer asked.

"Two," the Malcolm replied. "Both Human." Even as T'Pol felt her heart leap into her throat, a shadow crossed the British man's face. "One of them is very faint."

The captain moved closer to the view screen. "Are we in transporter range?" he asked the officer sitting at T'Pol's station.

"We'll need to get closer, sir," the woman told him.

"Captain, I'm picking up another vessel!" Malcolm looked up from his console. "It's a Klingon war bird. They're approaching at high warp."

"Ensign, get us as close to the pod as you can," Archer ordered. "The second we're in range, beam them out of there, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Archer pressed a button on the arm of his chair. "Archer to Sickbay. Prepare to receive two casualties."

"Acknowledged," Phlox replied.

"Sir, the Klingon ship is dropping out of warp," Malcolm announced.

True to his word, a war bird suddenly appeared on the view screen, looming behind the tiny escape pod like a hawk closing in on field mouse.

"Ensign..." Archer said to the woman in charge of the transporter.

"I'm trying, sir," she promised. "But the patterns are weak..."

"Get them on board, Ensign! Before the Klingons do!"

The officer shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't lock onto them!"

T'Pol stepped forward. "Captain...the grappler."

"The grappler?" he repeated. "T'Pol, they'll see that. They'll see us."

"It's a risk we'll have to take!" she argued with more force than she'd ever displayed on the bridge. "If they're captured, they will be killed!"

Archer took a split second to decide. "Bring the pod in," he ordered Malcolm. "Now!"

* * *

Hoshi was half-asleep, but when the whole pod suddenly shook, she was jerked out of her dreams. "Trip? Trip?"

He murmured something unintelligible, but at least he answered.

"What was that?" she asked. Sitting up as much as she could, she had the strangest sensation that they were moving. "What's going on?"

The next few seconds brought more strange noises, metallic bangs against the bottom of the pod and then, out of nowhere, a sudden rush of fresh, warm air accompanied by a beam of bright light.

Hoshi turned her head away, to shield her eyes. But when she heard her name, she looked back, squinting against the glare.

"Hoshi! Ensign Sato!"

The light grew more intense as the pod's doors were pried open, but slowly, steadily, she began to adjust to it. She could see dark shapes above her, then faces. Familiar faces. Smiles. Tears.

"Trip." She nudged the man lying next to her. "Trip..." Her voice cracked. "We're home."

* * *

The first thing T'Pol saw when she entered the shuttlebay was Hoshi being lifted out of the pod. She looked exactly like she had when T'Pol had made contact with her mind, only now her cracked lips were turned up in a faint smile.

T'Pol shifted her gaze to what lay behind Hoshi. Several of Phlox's medical staff were gathered around the pod. She couldn't see around them, but she was out of patience. Rushing forward, she reached the group just as they hoisted Trip up on a collapsible stretcher.

His hair and his beard had grown out; wild and tangled, they were both streaked with dirt and blood. His black shirt and pants were ripped and they hung on his gaunt frame. She couldn't see his eyes; they were closed and his head lolled to the side.

For a terrifying second, T'Pol wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. Clutching her belly, she stepped forward.

"Trip?" Her voice sounded so small. Walking with the medical staff as they carried him out of the bay, T'Pol reached for his hand, mindless of the dirt that caked his nails and knuckles. "Trip, can you hear me?"

Relief washed over her as his forehead crinkled. His eyes opened just a crack, offering her the tiniest silver of the blue she had grown to love.

"Trip." Unaware of the tear sliding down her cheek, T'Pol squeezed his fingers. "I'm here, Trip. I'm right here."

His mouth moved, but it took a few tries before he was able to speak. "Subcommander..." He frowned. "Since when...do you call...me Trip?"

The medics kept moving, but T'Pol's gait slowed, then stopped. Trip's hand fell out of hers as he was rushed down the corridor towards Sickbay, leaving her behind.

* * *

To Be Continued


	21. I Wanna Be There

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: A little late to be a real Christmas present, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you so much for reading; your feedback and comments and encouragement are the best gifts of all.

* * *

If I Believe in Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_You wouldn't know that I was there_

_'Cause I have been there all the time_

_And if I had my way, I'd hold you in my arms_

_And leave this madness all behind_

_- Blessid Union of Souls, "I Wanna Be There"_

* * *

Although Malcolm wanted to follow T'Pol to the shuttle bay, needing visual proof that Hoshi was still alive in spite of the report from the shuttle bay that the pod did contain both her and Trip, Captain Archer needed his armory officer more than anyone else on the ship in the minutes that followed the rescue.

As predicted, the grappler emerging out of thin air and grabbing the escape pod had not gone unnoticed by the Klingons.

"I'm detecting a power surge on the Klingon ship," Malcolm announced. "They could be arming their weapons."

"Evasive maneuvers, Travis." As the helmsman, moved them away, Archer shook his head. "They can't see us, but they know we're..."

The blast cut the captain off and rocked the entire ship. A hot spray of sparks rained down behind Malcolm.

"Polarize the hull plating!"

Reluctantly, he shook his head at the captain's order. "Sir, we don't have the power. It's taking everything we have to keep the cloaking device..."

Another blast hit their port nacelle, dimming the lights momentarily.

"Get us out of here!" Archer shouted.

Travis grasped his controls. "Gladly, sir."

A few seconds passed, during which Malcolm kept on eye on the Klingon ship with the help of his sensors. After another minute, he was happy to report, "They're holding their position, Captain." He had to smile, "Looks like they're going to waste quite a few torpedoes looking for us."

"Travis, plot the fastest course out of Klingon space," Archer sighed. "Warp five."

Clearing his throat, Malcolm stood up. "Captain...I request permission to leave the bridge."

Archer glanced at him. "Everything okay, Lieutenant?"

His palms felt sweaty as he searched for a plausible excuse. "I'd like to take a team to have a look at the escape pod. Perhaps we can figure out..."

The captain held up his hand. "Malcolm, I want to be down there, too. But right now, Trip and Hoshi need medical attention more than they need us hovering around." Walking to the armory station, he added, "We'll see them soon. We just need to get somewhere safer first."

Slowly, he sat back down. "Yes, sir. Of course."

Once the captain was seated in his chair, Travis looked at Malcolm before announcing, "We'll be out of Klingon space in eight hours, sir."

Eight hours. With Hoshi in Sickbay, in god-only-knew what kind of condition, it might as well have been eight days.

* * *

By the time Ah'len heard the news that Trip and the young comm officer had been found, a crowd had already gathered in the corridor outside of Sickbay. Being shorter than most of the Humans, she was able to slip and weave through them until she was right up against the double doors. But even when she was right up against them, they wouldn't open. The doctor had activated the lock, presumably to keep all of the well-meaning, but underfoot crew out of the way while he worked.

However, through the small sections of clear glass, Ah'len could see inside. There were two main areas of activity, one centering around Ensign Sato and the other around Trip. It seemed like the entire medical staff had been called to duty.

But while Ensign Sato had several nurses tending to her, Ah'len immediately realized that Phlox was stationed over Trip. All of the cheerfulness she had come to associate with the Denobulan was gone, stripped away and replaced by deep concentration.

Of the two rescued Humans, it was clear that Trip's condition was far more serious.

Ah'len tore her eyes away from the Humans moving around Trip's dangerously-still body; her gaze drifted to a lone figure standing a few feet away, her back to the door, but her profile still visible.

T'Pol was motionless as she watched the doctor work. Her arms held her rounded belly, like she was cradling Trip's child.

If she could have, Ah'len would have gone to her, tried to comfort her. She looked worse at that moment than she had when her mate was still missing.

* * *

"Doctor?"

Phlox very nearly snapped at the nurse who called to him from across the room, but he managed to hold his tongue at the last second. It wasn't the girl's fault that Trip was barely responding to the re-hydration therapy that he had implemented, nor should she be blamed for the fact that his lungs were full of fluid and his blood pressure was way too low.

"What is it, Ensign?" he asked as he checked Trip's temperature, yet again, to see if it was coming down.

"Ensign Sato is waking up, sir."

His head shot up. Torn between staying with Trip or talking to Hoshi, he eventually handed his scanner to the nearest nurse. "Continue to monitor him. I want to know the second anything changes, understood?"

As he made his way to Hoshi's bed, Phlox passed by T'Pol. Their eyes met briefly before he had to look away. There was too much naked emotion in her expression; it almost felt like he was being intrusive just by looking at her.

"Hoshi?" When he saw that she was trying to sit up, Phlox gently grasped her slender shoulders and held her down. "It's all right," he said. "You're on _Enterprise. _You're safe."

It took her a second of staring at him before Hoshi's eyes began to fill with tears. "I'm not dreaming?" Phlox shook his head. "And I'm not dead?"

"Far from it." Giving her a smile, he promised, "You're going to be fine, Hoshi."

She relaxed for a second, but then started struggling to sit up again. "Trip!"

Instead of trying to come up with an answer, Phlox's first instinct was to change the subject. "You're re-hydrating nicely and your temperature is almost back to normal." He frowned at the readings the nurses had taken. "You have several half-healed bone fractures.." Phlox fought back a wave of anger at the idea of anyone grabbing Hoshi's arm with enough force to break it, "...but none of them look as if they'll need to be re-set."

Hoshi wasn't really listening to him. Her eyes were wide, wild and worried as she scanned the room. When she landed on T'Pol, her chin started to tremble.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I couldn't stop them..."

"Hoshi, you have to relax," Phlox said. "It's the only way your body can begin to heal after such a..."

She cut him off, calling to T'Pol. "I'm sorry!" T'Pol tore her stare away from Trip in order to look at Hoshi. "I'm so sorry!" Hoshi sobbed.

Before T'Pol could say anything, Phlox picked up a hypo and pressed it against Hoshi's neck. Within seconds, she slumped back against the bio bed, lost to the darkness of heavy sedation.

"Forgive me," Phlox sighed.

T'Pol unfolded her arms. "Perhaps she could have told us something about Trip's condition."

"She needs to rest," he told her firmly. "As should you. Didn't I advise you to stay off your feet as much as possible?" She said nothing; she just stared at him as if he'd just suggested that she open an airlock. "We have no idea how long it will be before Trip regains consciousness."

"I intend to be here when he does," T'Pol said with a chill in her tone.

Phlox gave up. It was just easier than trying to change a Vulcan's mind. Walking back to Trip's bed, he glanced over the man's latest vital signs. The only thing he could say about them was that at least they weren't getting any worse.

* * *

Hoshi emerged from the darkness like a diver breaking the surface of the water. With the Romulans of her nightmares about to overtake her, she woke up gasping for air.

A nurse was at her side immediately, offering her water, wiping the sweat from her brow. The wet cloth felt wonderful against her skin. She wanted more. She wanted a shower. She wanted a bath. She wanted to emerge herself in water until every last alien cell was off her skin and out of her hair.

When she finally felt safe enough to open her eyes, she saw T'Pol looking back at her.

"Hoshi." It was the first time she had ever heard the Vulcan woman use her first name. "Can you understand me?"

It was such a logical question that she very nearly smiled. "My ears are fine," she murmured. "Water?"

T'Pol handed her a glass that a nurse gave to her. After downing the entire thing, Hoshi licked her lips, not wanting to miss a single, precious drop. Weeks in a Romulan brig had conditioned her to assume that it could be the last water she had for several days.

"Where's Trip?"

T'Pol flinched ever so slightly as she replied, "Under sedation. Dr. Phlox says it will help the swelling in his brain which seems to be affecting his memory."

Hoshi slowly shook her head. "It's not swelling."

"Do you know what they did to him?"

Again, she had to shake her head, although the simple action visibly frustrated T'Pol. "They would take him...I could hear him screaming, but I couldn't..." Her fists balled up at her sides. "I tried, T'Pol. I really tried."

"It's illogical to blame..." T'Pol trailed off, as if exhausted by logic. She glanced away for a second before turning back to Hoshi. "What did they do?"

"Whatever it was...every time he came back, he remembered less."

"Less about your situation?"

Hoshi's mouth felt dry again. "No. He never forgot me. He just...he started to forget certain...things. Specific things."

"What things?" T'Pol's shapely mouth twisted into a frown. "Hoshi?"

After a long moment of silence, Hoshi finally replied, "It started with Charlie." Her gaze dropped down to T'Pol's stomach. "Oh, god!" Her eyes flooded. "He's all right?" When T'Pol inclined her chin, she smiled in pure relief. "He was so proud...when he remembered. Proud and worried."

"When he..." T'Pol's throat closed up. "What are you saying?"

"He doesn't remember," she murmured, her smile fading away. "Charlie...the past three years..." Hoshi forced the next few word out, "You." She corrected herself a second later. "Well, he remembers you. But he doesn't remember that you two were...together."

The rapid rise and fall of T'Pol's chest was the only indication that she was slowly being consumed by panic. "How can he not...I don't understand how he could forget..." She stopped. "Why? What happened?"

When it became clear that Hoshi had no answers, T'Pol stepped away from the bio-bed, needing some space to breathe. Not that she had any lucky breathing normally when she'd just been told that her mate, the father of her child, the only man she had ever loved, no longer remembered anything about their life together.

"He tried to hold on," Hoshi broke the silence. "He told me...he told me that if he died before we were found...to tell Phlox to figure out what they did to him."

"They took his memories?" T'Pol's hands covered her belly. "That makes no sense. Why his and not yours? Why those memories?"

"I will wonder that for the rest of my life. And I will always, always wish that it had been me, T'Pol, and not him."

Unaware of her hands moving, T'Pol slowly stroked the place where her child grew. "Memories can be restored," she said, almost to herself. "I restored yours once."

Because she was exhausted and because she simply couldn't find it within herself to take away any ounce of hope from a pregnant woman, Hoshi nodded. "Yes. Yes, you did."

Just then, a nurse approached with another glass of water. This time, Hoshi sipped it slowly. There would be more, she told herself. There would be as much as she wanted.

* * *

Instead of Archer coming to Sickbay, Phlox came to the captain's office, one of the few places on _Enterprise_ where there was guaranteed privacy.

"How are they?" Archer sat on the edge of his chair, hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst.

"Ensign Sato is recovering quite well," Phlox began, preferring to start with good news. "She's re-hydrating nicely. There are no signs of any long-term physical damage, and her mental facilities are entirely intact."

The captain frowned. "You say that like the alternative was a possibility."

Phlox looked down at the data card in his hands. "As you know, Commander Tucker's condition was quite a bit more serious that Hoshi's. Severe dehydration and malnutrition led to pneumonia and anemia. His white blood cell count is coming down and his red blood cell is coming up, but it will be awhile before he's back on his feet."

He paused for so long that Archer had to prompt him, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"There was some...indication that he might have some memory loss. Not at all unusual in a traumatic situation such as this. Still, I ordered some additional scans of his brain."

"And?"

"What I saw," Phlox shook his head, "I've never seen anything like it. Entire neural pathways have been...erased."

Archer frowned. "Erased?"

"I know it sounds medically impossible to eliminate facets of the human mind, but it's the only explanation I have right now, Captain. There are sections of Commander Tucker's neural pathways which are just gone."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Phlox reluctantly admitted. "And until I do, there's very little hope that I will be able to do anything about it." He handed Archer the data card which held all the results of Trip's brain scan. "When he wakes up, we can start to figure out what he's lost and whether or not it can ever be recovered. He might even be able to help us, unless his time with the Romulans has also been erased."

Archer set the neon green card down onto his desk. "Can you think of any reason, short of torture, that someone with such technology would erase someone's memories?"

"Perhaps when he wakes, Commander Tucker will be able to give us the answer to that question," Phlox suggested. "Until then, I can only speculate."

"Speculate away, Doc."

"Erasing neural pathways...effectively rewriting memories...would seem to be the first step in controlling a person's mind."

It took a second for this to sink in. "You think the Romulans might be controlling Trip?" Archer asked.

"I think we should keep him sedated until we know more."

"Agreed." Archer picked up the data card only to set it down again. "How is T'Pol?"

"Still on her feet. She refuses to leave his side."

"She loves him."

Phlox watched the captain. "Yes." Seconds ticked by before he stood up. "I should get back, Captain."

Archer nodded. "Sure. Yes." Clearing his throat, he tried to smile at his doctor. "I'm glad they've got you taking care of them, Phlox."

The Denobulan doctor accepted the compliment with a small nod and an even smaller smile. When he was gone, Archer fed the data card into his computer terminal. He had no hope of understanding the data...he was a pilot, not a doctor...but he had to do something, anything.

His crew had been found, but it seemed like Trip might still be lost.

* * *

In the low light of Sickbay, T'Pol reached for Trip's hand. She already had the lines of his palm memorized; she traced them with the tip of her finger, willing the corners of his lips to turn up, needing to hear him chuckle at the tickling sensation.

Still holding his hand, she pressed his hand against her belly. Trip's son moved within her, as if reaching out to his father.

T'Pol's voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Remember us."

* * *

TBC


	22. Broken

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay, but I hope everyone's new year is off to a great start! Thank you so much for all of your support, as well as for coming back for more of this story;) Enjoy!

* * *

If I Believe In Anything

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain, there is healing  
In your name, I find meaning  
_

_- Lifehouse, "Broken"_

* * *

Five days after she was lifted from an escape pod, and three days after Enterprise cleared Klingon space, Phlox discharged Hoshi from Sickbay with one caveat.

"Two days, Ensign. You don't have to stay in bed, but I do not want you anywhere near the bridge for two days, understood?"

With pursed lips, she glared at him for a second before relaxing her face in defeat. "Fine. Two days." As Phlox nodded happily, Hoshi's eyes shifted to the drawn curtain on the other side of the room...specifically the man who lay unconscious behind it.

"Why hasn't he woken up yet?" she asked out loud.

Phlox's momentary smile faded. "He's responding to treatment," he assured her. "We're not going to lose him."

"But he's not waking up. It's been almost a week." Hoshi looked back at the doctor. "That can't be a good sign."

"Trust me," Phlox implored. "Commander Tucker is out of the woods, so to speak. Please don't worry about him when you should be concentrating on taking care of yourself."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. For the first few days in that hell-hole...he kept me going. He wouldn't let me give in to the cold or the hunger...the fear." Tears welled up in her eyes. "When he started getting sick...when he started forgetting things...I tried so hard to help him." She closed her eyes, letting the tears spill down her cheeks. "I should have tried harder."

Just then, the doors swung open and Malcolm entered Sickbay. Unlike Travis who had visited Hoshi every day, Malcolm had only stopped by twice; both visits had been short and awkward.

Upon seeing her crying, the armory officer frowned. "Hoshi? Are you all right?"

Wiping at her cheeks with her shaking hand, she nodded. "I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

"I..um..." He cleared his throat. "I heard you were being discharged and I thought you might need a hand getting back to your quarters."

"That's nice of you, but I'm perfectly capable of..."

Phlox gently cut her off. "I was going to have a nurse walk you there, anyway, Ensign. Why not let Lieutenant Reed be gallant?"

Malcolm rubbed at his cheek, but he couldn't hide the fact that it was suddenly flushed. "Thank you, Doctor."

Hoshi took one last look at the curtain drawn around Trip's bed. She frowned. "Where's T'Pol?"

"Resting," Phlox said. "As you should be." Offering his arm, he urged her to take hold of it as she slid off the bed and landed on her feet. "Go on, Ensign. Let me have my bed back."

She managed a smile, but only a small one. Letting go of Phlox's arm, she swayed a bit, prompting Malcolm to rush forward and hold out his own arm for support. "Thanks," she murmured.

"My pleasure." Malcolm nodded at the door. "Shall we?"

The corridors were quiet as they made their way to the turbolift. "It's weird," Hoshi said, breaking the silence. "I always thought these walkways were too cramped." She chuckled bitterly. "I guess nearly two months in a Romulan holding cell could make even the brig seem like a concert hall."

Because he could think of nothing to say to that, Malcolm merely returned her half-hearted smile as they rode the lift to her deck.

It wasn't until they reached her door that he finally worked up the nerve to say what had been on his mind every moment of every day since she and Trip had been taken.

"Hoshi..." Drawing in a deep breath, Malcolm forced himself to continue, "Would I be out of line if I asked you for a favor?" Before she could answer, he rushed on, "I certainly don't expect it, but I need to ask for your forgiveness."

"My forgiveness?"

He refused to look at her as he shook his head. "On the _T'Vok_...I was in charge of your security...and I failed. They took you...they took Trip...and all I did was lie there on the damn floor like a..."

He stopped suddenly when Hoshi put her hand on his arm. "I'd like to think you haven't been beating yourself up over this for seven weeks, but I also like to think I know you."

"Please. Don't make jokes." When Malcolm finally looked at her, his expression was one of self-inflicted torture. "I let you down. It should have been me they took, not you. I was slow. Too damn slow! And you paid the price for it."

A moment passed. "Is there anything I could say right now that would make you believe it wasn't your fault?" she asked.

"Probably not," he admitted.

Hoshi nodded. "I see. Well, then..." Grabbing the zippered collar of his uniform, she pulled his mouth down to meet hers in a brief, but definitely non-platonic kiss that left him stunned.

"Hoshi?"

Pulling back, she pressed the panel to open her door. "I need to get some rest. Doctor's orders." Hoshi stepped inside only to look back at the still-shocked armory officer. "I've been banned from the bridge, but not from the mess hall. Breakfast tomorrow?"

All he could do was nod.

"Do me a favor. Give yourself a break, Malcolm," Hoshi advised before the door slid shut. "I knew you'd find me."

* * *

With the pad of her thumb, T'Pol scrolled through the pictures stored on the computer in Trip's quarters, starting from their first days on the ship, when everything had been new to her Human crewmates...and everything had been much simpler for her.

It was a good thing he was an excellent engineer, because his eye for photography was less than developed. There were even a few pictures where the bottom corner was blocked by his thumb. Half of the photos were of various parts of the warp core.

She paused on an image of Trip that could only have been taken on the first Minshara class planet they had encountered. The planet of the psychotropic pollen.

Taken hours before nightfall and the storm that had followed, presumably by either the Captain or Ensign Mayweather, the picture had captured her mate against a backdrop of a snow-capped mountain and a field of green grass. He was grinning from ear to ear, his hair brilliantly blonde in the sunshine.

T'Pol touched the screen, touched the frozen smile on his lips. Only a second later, the chime on Trip's door rang; she instinctively turned the computer off, like a child caught stealing a treat.

"Come in."

The door opened and the captain entered. "I figured you'd be here," he said. "How are you doing?"

As the door closed behind him, she could feel Archer's stare. As gracefully as she could with her rounded belly, T'Pol swung around to face him. "I'm fine. Is there something you need?"

"Not exactly." Without waiting for an invitation, Archer sat down on the edge of Trip's bed. A moment passed in awkward silence. "Phlox released Hoshi a few hours ago. She's doing really well."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Her tone was flat and lifeless, a fact didn't escape Archer's notice. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

The baby was moving; T'Pol very nearly winced when he kicked her soundly. Laying a hand over the spot, she inclined her chin. "All right."

"Phlox has done all the scans he can do, but he doesn't know much more about Trip's condition now than he did three days ago," the captain began. "The only way we're ever really going to know what's been done to him..."

"Is to wake him up," she finished for him.

Archer nodded reluctantly. "I think so."

T'Pol glanced away, her hand still covering the place where Trip's son was kicking. "I thought you were keeping him sedated out of fear of what the Romulans might have done to him."

"We'll keep him restrained and under close watch, of course, but we need to be able to talk to him." Archer hesitated. "I've pretty much made up my mind already, but I do want your input."

"I'm not Commander Tucker's spouse," she reminded him. "I have no say in his medical treatments."

"You're the only one on this ship that he would want making decisions about his life, T'Pol."

Her chest felt heavy. "Reviving him is...logical."

"But..." Archer's brow was crinkled with concern. "Can you handle it right now?"

"That is an unnecessary question." With one hand on Trip's desk, T'Pol pushed herself up onto her feet. "I have no other choice but to 'handle it,' as you say."

Still seated, the captain watched her move to the other side of the room. "The sooner we can figure out what happened to him, the sooner we can start undoing the damage."

"Unfortunately, the mind...even the Human mind...is a complex organ, Captain." T'Pol stared at the wall as she murmured, "There's no guarantee that his condition can be reversed."

"There's also no guarantee that it will be permanent." He stood and walked up behind her, gently grapsing her shoulders. "Come to Sickbay. Let your face be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. Even if he's lost some memories, that will be a good place to start rebuilding them."

Turning her head, T'Pol glanced back at Archer. He didn't blink; he just held her stare. After a long moment, she nodded.

Even if it turned out to be a futile exercise, at least she would get to see Trip's eyes again.

* * *

Where he was, there were no dreams. There was just darkness. Silence.

And then, without warning, there was light.

His eyelids felt like they were made of lead; he struggled to make them work. There was something between the darkness and the light. A shape. A face.

It took even more effort to make his mouth move and his voice work. "T'Pol?"

He must have been dreaming because the beautiful face looking down at him came very close to crumpling at the sound of her name. Blinking madly, he watched her struggle for composure, her lips pursed to keep them from wobbling, her slanted eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

What could have happened that had her fighting to keep from getting emotional? His ego wasn't quite big enough to assume that it had anything to do with him.

"Damn," Trip breathed. "Captain?"

Archer's face appeared beside T'Pol's. "I'm here, Trip." His old friend smiled. "Welcome back."

"What..." His head pounded with every word, but not enough to stop him. "What the hell's goin' on?"

Glancing at T'Pol, Archer sighed. "It's a very long story."

Right then, Trip tried to move his arm, only to find that it was strapped down to the bed. "Doesn't look like I'm goin' anywhere."

"You're in Sickbay," the captain told him. "You've been here for...awhile." He glanced at T'Pol, but her eyes never left Trip's. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. "What's the last thing you remember, Trip?"

Whenever anyone had asked him that before, he had usually been able to draw up at least one clear memory pretty quickly, but right then, nothing came to him but fragments. An image of Earth, a destroyed building, a wretched scar burned across his home.

"Elizabeth." Just saying her name brought back all of the memories he didn't want. He closed his eyes as his face twisted in agony. "She's gone..."

T'Pol's voice sounded different to him. Less mechanical. There was almost a catch in her thoat, like speaking was suddenly painful for her, too. "Are you saying...that the last thing you remember is the Xindi attack on Earth?"

Trip opened his wet eyes. Things were becoming clearer. "An anomaly. Right? That's how this happened...me blackin' out. Knocked around in the Expanse."

Archer looked at T'Pol. "The Expanse," he said softly. She turned her head. A second later, her face moved out of view.

Lying flat on his back, Trip could only barely see her as she walked away, just enough to notice that she wasn't wearing her usual bodysuit, but some sort of tunic top over leggings. He frowned. "Captain...am I missin' somethin'?"

He knew Jonathan Archer well enough to know when he was lying. His smile never quite reached his eyes. "You're fine, Trip. You just need some rest. After that..."

"No, no, no. Somethin's goin' on." Struggling to sit up, Trip found that not only were his arms restrained, but his legs had been immobilized as well. "Why am I all tied up?" he shouted. "Did I hurt somebody? What did I..."

He stopped...he froze as T'Pol turned around. Her tunic top wasn't quite loose enough to hide the unmistakable roundness of her belly.

T'Pol was pregnant.

Why did that feel like a punch to his gut?

"Damn, Subcommander." Trip tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Look at you." He frowned a second later. "When did you go and marry...what was his name? The architect? Your fiancee?"

It was Archer who quietly said, "Koss."

"Yeah." Trip looked wistfully at her stomach. "Koss."

_Lucky bastard Koss..._

Suddenly, Trip felt cold, and it wasn't just from the fact that every fleeting hope and stupid fantasy he'd had in the past two years had just been extinguished. T'Pol had gotten married and, apparently, pregnant while they'd been on Earth. She certainly hadn't been showing before the accident which had landed him in Sickbay.

So...just how long had he been unconcious?

"I know you have a lot of questions," Archer said, breaking through his jumbled thoughts. "And I promise you, we'll try to answer all of them." He paused. "But there's no rush. Doctor Phlox says you need some more rest."

Trip sensed motion to his right before the doctor's distinctive face came into his view. "Yes. Absolutely. Rest." A hypospray appeared out of nowhere. "Just relax, Commander."

"Like I got a choice," Trip muttered. Phlox pressed the cold device to his neck; a few seconds later, everything went blurry. There wasn't any point in trying to fight it off. Trip closed his eyes and sank back into the darkness.

* * *

"Damn, Subcommander. Look at you. When did you go and marry...what was his name? The architect? Your fiancee?"

T'Pol felt as if someone had just slapped her across the face. She couldn't move. She couldn't even think.

"Koss," she heard the captain say.

"Yeah." Had she been able to see clearly through the fog that had enveloped her senses, she might have noticed Trip's eyes slip down to her stomach as he repeated, "Koss."

The death of her father. The death of her mother. The day Trip had disappeared. T'Pol could count on one hand the number of times she'd cried without being under the influence of drugs. Now, as she stood in the middle of Sickbay, pregnant with the child of a man who couldn't even remember loving her, she felt her emotions welling up, pressing against the carefully constructed barriers of her logic and discipline.

"I know you have a lot of questions," Archer told him. "And I promise you, we'll try to answer all of them." He paused. "But there's no rush. Doctor Phlox says you need some more rest."

From his place behind Trip's bed, Phlox moved forward with a hypospray. "Just relax, Commander."

"Like I got a choice," Trip muttered. Only a minute later, he was gone again, lost to the doctor's medication. As soon as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out, T'Pol could no longer hold herself together.

With one hand cradling her stomach, she blindly felt for a bed, a chair, a wall...anything to keep her from dropping to her knees. She heard the strangled cry that escaped from the back of her throat, but it almost seemed as if the noise couldn't have come from her. It was too primal, it spoke of too much anguish for a Human, much less a Vulcan.

A pair of strong arms caught her, helped her sink to the floor without harming the baby. She knew it was the captain without even looking at him.

"T'Pol." He sighed as he drew her closer, like a child cradling a wounded bird. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Three years," she whispered. "He's lost...three years."

"We'll help him get it back," Archer swore. "We'll make him remember."

She blinked, unaware of the tears that left two dark spots on the sleeve of his uniform. "How?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But we will, T'Pol. I promise you...we will."

Although she knew she should have pulled away from him, gotten off the floor...stopped making a spectacle of herself, all T'Pol could do was close her eyes and hope that when she opened them again, her world would be normal again.

And it would be Trip's arms, not the captain's, around her.

* * *

He'd been sure that sleep would elude him that night, but with Porthos curled up next to him on the bed, Archer actually managed to put in a few good hours before he was interrupted by the chime on his door.

In the dark, he felt for the light switch, and winced in the harsh glare. "You can come in, but it'd better be important."

The door opened, bringing even more light, as well as his chief medical officer. "I'm sorry to wake you, Captain, but I don't believe that this can wait until morning."

As Porthos lifted his head, Archer pushed back the covers and swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed. "Is it T'Pol? The baby?"

"As far as I know, they're both fine. Well. Perhaps not fine, at least not T'Pol, but..."

"Doc?"

Phlox clasped his hands behind his back. "It's Commander Tucker. I've been going over the scans I took while he was conscious earlier."

Archer reached for a black undershirt. "Did you find something?"

"First of all, Captain, you have to understand the physiology of memories."

"I don't need a tour of the brain, Phlox. I just need to know what it's going to take to get my chief engineer back on duty."

Phlox's shoulders lifted slightly. "Actually, he could return to duty tomorrow if you wanted him to. He hasn't forgotten how to run a warp engine or repair the EPS grid. Learned memories are centered in the hippocampus, an area the Romulans seem to have left untouched. It's the amygdala that I'm worried about, Captain. Emotional memories," he clarified. "That's where the damage was done."

"All right." Archer stood up. "Then what is it going to take to get my chief engineer to remember the baby he's having with my science officer?"

"We're not talking about a forgotten memory, Captain. Whole sections of Commander Tucker's life...three years worth of emotional memories...have been stolen from him. And while I wish it was as simple as telling him everything he's forgotten, it isn't. In fact, it could do more damage than good."

Archer was skeptical. "How's that?"

"You could recount every minute of the past three years down to the very smallest detail," Phlox went on, "but those memories will never be his. They will never resonate with him. They will never be anything more than stories he's told about things that, as far as he's concerned, never happened." A few moments ticked by. "I try never to say that a situation is hopeless, Captain, but in this case...I'm afraid I have to make an exception."

"What are you saying? He's never going to remember, so we shouldn't even try?"

"I believe it would be like trying to teach my Pyrithian bat to speak."

"Phlox." Archer frowned. "We're not talking about a bat. We're talking about Trip."

The Denobulan man lowered his gaze. "Believe me, Captain...I will never stop searching for a way to reverse what was done to him, but everything in my experience tells me that he will never remember the past three years...and that we shouldn't try to make him."

"What about T'Pol?" Archer spread his hands. "In a couple of months, she's going to give birth to a baby who might just look more Human than Vulcan. You don't think Trip will wonder about that?"

"As far as he knows, he and T'Pol are colleagues, nothing more. If I remember correctly, the point at which his memories stop was just before I prescribed Vulcan neuropressure to help him sleep."

"Was that how they...?" He trailed off, not really wanting to know. Archer ran his hand down his face. "She's been through so much. I don't know how she's going to take this."

"She's a strong woman."

"I know." The captain smiled without mirth. "I just wish the universe would quit testing her strength." After a minute of thought, he gave in. "All right. If you think it's better for him, I'll order the crew to deflect any questions he might have about the past three years. But I gotta say," Archer quickly added, "If he ever comes to me and asks me directly if he's the father of T'Pol's baby...I'm not going to lie to him."

"I understand, Captain. Unfortunately, the odds of that ever happening naturally aren't good."

Once again, Archer smiled without any warmth. "Clearly, you've never been to Vegas with one Trip Tucker, Doc. Impossible odds are his favorite kind."

* * *

To Be Continued


End file.
